


Rise of The Valar

by NotYourAverageHouseplant



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, F/M, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 50,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotYourAverageHouseplant/pseuds/NotYourAverageHouseplant
Summary: “I should return to my companions,” Legolas frowned, “but I shall find you tomorrow, and we can exchange our hardships then.”“It will be nice to commiserate.” Arien laughed again. It had been too long since she had laughed, and the weight in her chest eased for the first time since the day began."I see you have not lost your affinity for your floating lights," Legolas said as he walked past her, reaching out to touch one of the glowing orbs. “I am always impressed by them.”Arien smiled softly, beckoning the largest one to her hand and letting it sit before she extinguished it."They are not meant to impress.""I know," said Legolas, gazing at the lights as she put them out one by one. "I'm not sure why, but they comfort me. To know there is light in these dark times gives me hope." He looked at Arien thoughtfully, and she wished she could read the sorrow in his eyes "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Elentari."





	1. Arien

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my brain baby. It's been coming to fruition for the greater part of the last few years, and I'm excited to have you read it! Please feel free to leave any positive or constructive comments! I love feedback!

The air in the library hung heavier than usual. Dust surrounded the bookshelves, swirling in intricate patterns through the milky air. The patterns together created a large map, with cascading mountains and forests, rivers that stretched on between them, and various landmarks in places where Middle Earth’s history was shaped. Arien, whose thoughts dictated the patterns, sat hunched over a large book, muttering words as she read under her breath.

_ "The Void is a place of dwelling between reality and non-existence. Thousands of years ago, when Middle Earth was still young, the Valar banished Melkor into the Void. The Valar are beings entrusted with the creation and care of Middle Earth. They sealed the Void, preventing Melkor — more commonly known as Morgoth — from returning to the world and halting the growth of evil amidst their beloved creations…." _

Her voice grew smaller as the text continued. Ink stains dotted the sleeve of her dress, and her dark hair threatened rebellion against the pins that held it away from her face. But the disarray did not phase her. She read through the endless text, disturbing the dust with each page turn. Elrond would be disappointed she wasn't caring more about maintaining the patterns of lakes and mountains and various moments in history. Such a small disturbance should not move mountains, he had said to her many a time during her exercise. But Elrond wasn't here.

Arien had been studying all morning, making notes and skimming through tattered books. Intent on her research, she didn't look up when the door to the library opened, and Elrohir walked in as quietly as he could manage.

"Have you been here all day?" he asked, his voice hushed. He sat in the chair beside her, careful not to knock over the pile of books at her feet.

Arien glanced at him. He was immaculately dressed, not a single hair out of place. She looked back at her notes and grinned.

"And if I have?"

"I suppose I wouldn't be surprised."

Elrohir rifled through a few sheets of parchment before taking Arien's quill out of its ink well and making random scratches on the sheet next to it.

"Ada's been looking for you since noon," he said eventually, setting the quill down.

"Oh?" Arien looked at his marks on her notes and narrowed her eyes. "Not you?"

Elrohir cleared his throat, once again picking up the quill and turning it over in his hands.

"Why would I be looking for you?"

Arien laughed. "If Elrond were looking, he knows where he could have found me. I told him this morning that I would be spending the day studying."

She stood, gathering a few books and pieces of parchment. The scenes in the air dissipated with the loss of her concentration. The dust floated into its regular places on top of shelves and forgotten tomes.

"Then what would you say if I was looking for you?" Elrohir grinned, hurrying to his feet and following Arien as she walked from the room.

She smiled at him while they walked down the brightly-lit corridor.

"Why were you looking for me, Elrohir?"

She knew what he was going to say. She always knew what he was going to say. And she tried to avoid it because she hated seeing the disappointed look on his face, but Arien enjoyed his company more than she dared admit to him.

"I wanted to ask— do you have some time this afternoon to go on a walk?"

"Only if Elladan comes along."

And there it was, the droop of his eyebrows, the slight slump of his shoulders.

"I'll ask Elladan if he would like to join us," Elrohir said, covering his disappointment with a quick smile. "Where will I find you later?"

"I'm going to my study right now. Give me a bit of time to organize my research and change into a proper dress."

"I will plan on it." He bowed, giving her another smile before heading off in the opposite direction.

A few minutes later, Arien was alone in her study, placing her research papers on her desk and her borrowed library books on a half-empty shelf. The small room held walls filled with paintings and tapestries, some made by her and some gifts from her friends. Most books were arranged on shelves, but a handful laid open on the floor next to a pile of blankets and pillows Arien had not cleaned up from the day before.

A door in the corner led into her private chambers, a light and airy room with soft furnishings. Arien changed out of her wrinkled dress and paused for a moment to try to gather loose strands of hair back into their proper pins. But much sooner than Arien predicted, there was a knock at her bedroom door, and she opened it to see Elrohir and Elladan waiting patiently.

"You look lovely, Arien," Elrohir said. He did a funny little bow while Elladan smirked.

"Isn't that the dress Elrohir told you he liked?" Elladan asked.

Arien rolled her eyes, refusing to make eye contact with Elladan as she swept past the two of them, closing her door behind her. This was her favorite blue dress, and she didn't want to avoid wearing it just because Elrohir said she looked nice in it.

The three of them walked with little conversation until they reached the east gardens. A short hedge-lined a walking path for about fifty yards, delicate flowers and trees protected by it from foot traffic. But past the hedge grew more robust plants which require less attention from those who tended this quarter of the community grounds. As they passed the end of the hedge Elladan fell a few paces behind Elrohir and Arien as he usually did.

"How have your studies been going?" Elrohir asked finally, clearing his throat a bit.

Arien shrugged, "A lot of the same. I feel like I never find any answers. The Void remains vague and location-less. I'm worried I do not have enough resources here to find answers. Ada says the time is coming for my kin to join me here, but I have begun to wonder if we should gather elsewhere."

"Maybe you're not supposed to find it. Your worryings could be for naught," Elrohir said too quickly.

Arien took a deep breath. This discussion was getting old.

"I know that you would love for my fate to be to stay here in Imladris, but my reason for being here is not to sit by the wayside while others strive to help," She smiled at him and shook her head. "You've seen my gifts. You know the impact I could have on the growing darkness and the shame that would follow if I did not fulfill my duty."

"What shame is there in duty to family and love?"

Elrohir stopped walking and turned toward her.

"You know that is not my fate," she tried to keep her voice level as she was acutely aware of Elladan behind them. She started inviting him along a few years previously, and she knew Elrohir thought it was for propriety -- and it was -- but it eventually became a safeguard for Arien. She didn't want to say something she would regret.

Elrohir sighed, "You can choose your fate, Arien, you don't have to let your parents, or my father, or anyone dictate your choices."

"I cannot choose to abandon Middle Earth to darkness! I cannot choose to let Melkor return from the Void if there is a chance I can stop him, then I--"

A sudden movement from behind Elrohir stopped her short. Immediately, Arien motioned to Elrohir and Elladan, then jumped up and started climbing the tree nearest her. With deftness, she climbed high enough to not be visible from the ground, and moments later Elrohir and Elladan joined her. She nodded her head toward the movement as they looked at her in question.

Two people passed underneath their hiding place. One, a tall man with a blue hat and long Wizard's staff whom Arien recognized as Gandalf the Grey, having met him once many years ago. Next to him stood a person dressed in the dark clothing worn by the Dunedain Rangers. The Ranger's hair was dark and short, but Arien could not see his face through the branches.

"A little further, Rian, then you can be rid of me." Gandalf sounded wearier than he looked.

"I do not wish to be rid of you. I merely want some time alone."

Arien made eye contact with Elladan, who was at her right elbow. His face reflected the shock she felt at hearing a woman's voice come from the Ranger. Arien felt embarrassed she had been quick to judge based off of hair-length and clothing. The Ranger obviously had a slightly smaller build than the typical Ranger, and as she turned, Arien got a clear look at her face. She had a grim face, but a feminine face and one Arien immediately felt familiar with.

But as fast as the pair had approached, they were gone. The three in the tree waited another moment or two before climbing back down. Arien was breathless, her eyes sparkling as she turned to the twins.

"We need to return to the house, I must speak with Ada."

Elladan nodded and started walking away, "I'll go on ahead and let him know you'll be there shortly." He winked at Arien, who resisted the urge to roll her eyes as he disappeared around a corner.

Elrohir looked frustratedly after his brother, "I know you are in a hurry Arien, but I wish we had more time to talk. As I have said before, I don't want to pressure you, I just don't understand why you cannot at least try both."

"I do not want to keep having this conversation, Elrohir," she could feel a familiar clenching in her chest, "yet you seem determined not to let it be."

"If you do not love me, then why do you not just say that? Why do you say it is just because of your fate. Why do you make me feel hope that you, that you--"

Elrohir cut himself off before the tears in his eyes spilled and turned away, walking toward the house. Arien was glad he hadn't continued. He was right to get upset, she knew it was wrong to lead him with false hope. But every time she tried to tell him she didn't love him, the words got stuck. She wanted to blame it on being an emotional coward but hadn't allowed herself to figure out exactly why she could not say it.

But regardless of their row, life continued around her. Birds sang a few trees away as the sun rose to its highest point. The flowers lining the path were lit by an ethereal beauty in the shade of the trees around them, and the leaves on said trees were still an immaculate green despite the nearness of fall. Arien stood wishing she could leap into the air and fly above their branches, and away from the sinking feeling she had. Here she was, on a day more important than any other thus far, and she wanted to leave. But she needed to go speak with Elrond, for with Gandalf, was one of her kin. She was finally going to meet another child of the Valar.

  
  



	2. Rian

Rivendell lay nestled in a small valley a few days ride from the base of the Misty Mountains. Its buildings sprawled out over the beautiful land, covered in the most delicate foliage Rian had ever seen. Everywhere she looked was a breathtaking view of the hills and cliffs surrounding the landscape. It surpassed any expectations she may have had, but Rian’s mood soiled the splendor.

 

Upon arriving, Rian inquired of Lord Elrond where she could find some privacy. She soon found herself in a room with a large bed dressed in inviting white bedding and a steaming bath. Before she had had time to take off her dusty travel clothes, an Elf came in carrying a tunic and leggings along with various hair combs and brushes.

 

“There is a feast tonight, my lady,” the Elf bowed when Rian let her in. “Lord Elrond bid us provide you with clean clothes and anything else you might need after your journey.” Rian had never dressed for a feast, but she would have assumed the standard attire would have been a gown, not a tunic and leggings. She suspected Gandalf had a hand in this, but wouldn’t reject the offer from the Elf.

 

“Thank you,” she said, taking the clothing and setting them on the bed.

 

“If there is anything else I can provide you, I am happy to fetch it.”

 

“I am alright for now,” Rian glanced back at the bath, hoping it wasn’t going cold. The Elf seemed to catch her intentions and excused herself, leaving the combs and brushes on a desk beside the bed.

 

Rian washed in the tub, enjoying what she supposed was the first bath she could remember being drawn for her. She changed into the fresh tunic and leggings, surprised they fit well. Even though it was not a fancy gown, it was the nicest thing she’d ever worn. The linen was embroidered with beautiful golden thread, the patterns twisting together attractively. But the bath, the clothes, none of it could repress the suffocating stress in her chest. Thoughts danced through her mind, questions that she still did not have answers to, answers to questions she thought she wanted but now wished she had never heard. The combs and brushes went all but forgotten as she walked out of the room, wet hair tucked behind her ears.

 

Rivendell’s hallways were laden with paintings and sculptures of which Rian had never seen such artistry, but she barely noticed them as she passed. The weight of the world could not wash off with water and soap. 

 

“You look well this evening, Rian.” Gandalf’s voice startled her as she wandered past an open door. She turned and saw him sitting in a library among a large pile of books. She should have known he would commit himself to research as soon as they arrived.

 

“I have not been able to find time to clear my mind,” she sat down opposite him and took one of his books in her hands, ignoring his compliment.

 

“I tried to tell Lord Elrond you would not be up to a feast but he -”

 

“I am capable of eating and conversing, regardless of not wanting to,” she said as she skimmed the pages of the book in her hands. “Why are you reading about Minas Tirith in the Second Age?”

 

Gandalf snatched the book from her hands. “Never you mind. You have enough to burden your thoughts.”

 

Rian pursed her lips and stood up, “You'd think I could assume there should be no more secrets between us.”

 

If Gandalf cared about her comment, he did not show it. He didn’t reply but buried himself again in his books, so Rian turned and left, heading once more to dinner.

 

The dining hall, which she found without much difficulty, was as beautiful as the rest of the house. The floor was a mosaic of well-polished stone tiles, and the tables were a delicate pale wood. The ceiling was lofty, but the quiet sounds of Elves conversing did not echo. Rian wondered how calculated the beauty was.

 

At the end of the room, steps lead down to a round platform, a fireplace burning in the center. Rian had heard Aragorn speak of the Fire Hall in the house of Elrond, and the beautiful songs sung there. She had dreamed of listening to them one day, not knowing the circumstances which brought her to Rivendell now. 

 

“We will go in there after dinner.”

 

Rian had seen the Elf approach her out of the corner of her eye but had not wanted to acknowledge him till he had spoken. She knew immediately he must be one of Elrond’s sons. He bore a silver circlet similar to Elrond’s and had the same brow as the Half-Elven Lord. 

 

“I look forward to it,” she bowed her head in acknowledgment of his status and moved to sit down at a nearby table.

 

“I believe you are actually to sit at the high table, my Lady,” he said, gesturing to the dais at the end of the room where she could see Lord Elrond and a few others getting seated. “Might I escort you?” He held out his arm.

 

She tried to smile as she took it but felt her face only reach the point of not being unpleasant.

 

Rian was aware that every Elf was watching her. Gandalf had warned her most of Rivendell would notice something different about her. She wished it was her short hair or her lack of formal dress, but she knew Gandalf spoke of something much less visible to the naked human eye. He said she had an aura, one more powerful than even that of the Eldar - though she could not see it herself. 

 

The walk to the upper dais lasted much longer than she wanted, and she sat down as soon as she could. Lord Elrond’s son sat on her left while the chair on her right remained empty.

 

“You must forgive me. I did not introduce myself,” he spoke up, “I am Elrohir, son of Lord Elrond.”

 

Rian nodded her head in acknowledgment once more.

 

“I am Rian... from Bree.” Rian couldn’t remember the last time she introduced herself and felt silly not knowing if she should have a title to follow her name up with.

 

“My father has told me a little about you. I am very honored to sit beside you,” he smiled.

 

Rian tried not to grimace. Not only was he referring to her new-found lineage, but the proper conversation was starting to feel very stifling. She hoped the food would come out soon.

 

However, food did not bring her desired reprieve, but the arrival of another dinner guest. Everyone in the hall had directed their attention to an Elf that came through the door. She had long dark hair, and fair skin, and walked with more grace than Rian would have thought possible by a living creature. Immediately Rian knew who she was - her aura gave her away. This was Elrond’s charge - like Rian was Gandalf’s - and not a mere Elf at all. She was accompanied by an Elf who looked identical to Elrohir - so much so that Rian turned to look at Elrohir to make sure that he had not disappeared.

 

The graceful woman, much to Rian’s surprise, made her way to the empty seat on her right. She said something to Rian that must have been an introduction, but Rian could not hear it over the rushing in her ears.

 

“Are you all right?” Elrohir whispered, bringing her out of her stupor.

 

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry -”

 

“It’s okay. Arien has that affect on many people.”

 

His wry smile told Rian more than she wanted to know about him.

 

“Don’t monopolize the guest’s attention, Elrohir. It isn’t polite to whisper.”

 

The Elf who looked identical to Elrohir leaned forward in his seat on the other side of the woman -  Arien, Elrohir had called her - and grinned at Rian.

 

“I’m Elladan, my Lady. I hope my brother has been behaving himself.”

 

“He has been good company,” Rian stated, “My name is Rian. I came here from Bree.” She felt like her introduction came out more confident this time, but still cringed internally.

 

“Elladan is the one you want to look out for,” Arien laughed, the sound as bright as starlight, “he has caused more trouble here in one week than Elrohir has in his whole lifetime.”

 

Before Rian could respond, if she had had a response to give, a chime sounded, and Elves bearing food came from an adjoining hall. This food Rian had never imagined possible. Everything was light and filling but more delicious than every dish she had ever eaten. With each course, she relaxed a little bit more. The conversation was not more comfortable for her, but listening to the two brothers banter with Arien was entertaining at the least. 

 

Dinner was over sooner rather than later, Rian breathing a sigh of relief as the conversation moved to the Fire Hall. 

 

“I must hurry. It would be amiss if I were not the first to offer up a song on this fine evening!” Elladan stood, grinning in a ridiculous manner.

 

“He is a fool,” Arien said, taking Rian’s arm in hers, “He may be the only Elf I know who cannot hold a tune past the first cadence.”

 

Rian allowed Arien to steer her to the center of the Fire Hall. Where the sound in the feasting hall had not echoed or bounced, the same sounds danced off the pillars of stone and high ceiling. It made Rian smile. Music had always made her smile. When she was not journeying with the Rangers, she could often be found in The Prancing Pony, listening to tales sung slightly off-key, and sharing her own, though never through song. 

 

“Do you sing, Rian?” Elrohir asked as they settled onto some cushions on the edge of the fire. Lord Elrond sat nearby, Rian acutely aware of his attention on her.

 

“I prefer listening, if I may.” She had not drunk enough of the Elvish wine served at dinner to be persuaded into singing.

 

“I prefer to listen as well,” Elrond said to her, “I consider myself a great appreciator of talent where I may not have much to offer.”

 

Rian could not imagine that Lord Elrond was not gifted in everything he tried, but she masked her suspicion by turning to watch a different dark-haired elf sing a song of their composition.

 

Music flowed around Rian like a river running smoothly after cascading over a cliff’s edge, into a deep pool. She wanted to sink into the depths, submerge herself in the tales of the Elves. Maybe she was just tired and comfortable next to the fire, but Rian could not pull herself away as she had planned. She found herself listening while watching the flames dance, their light casting a warm glow on the faces of those closest. Most of the evening passed in a pleasant haze, until Rian started to pick up on a new theme of the songs.

 

The Valar.

 

They sang of  Manwë, mightiest of the Valar, and ruler over the skies, then Varda, Queen of the stars, who sat with Manwë in their home atop the highest peak in Valinor. Then came Ulmo, the Lord of Water, Yavanna, Lady of the Earth, and Aulë, the mighty craftsman. Next was Námo, or Mandos, as the Elves called him, whom the tales described as solemn. He presided over the spirits in the Halls of Mandos, and his solemnity could be compared to that of Nienna, Lady of Mercy. Last that Rian could remember was Oromë, a great huntsman. These eight made up what the elves called the Aratar -- the mightiest of the Valar. Their power, along with the other seven, created Middle Earth, but they now resided on Valinor, and the Elves of Rivendell longed to set foot on that blessed land where darkness never falls, and peace goes undisturbed. 

  
  


“Are you all right?”

 

There was a soft touch on Rian’s arm, and she looked away from the current singer to meet Arien’s blue eyes.

 

“You’re crying,” Arien said, pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve and offering it to Rian.

 

It took Rian a moment to realize her cheeks were wet, but she hurried to take Arien’s handkerchief, dabbing her cheeks as fast as she could. She stood, unsteady for a moment from sitting cross-legged longer than she realized.

 

“Thank you for the warm welcome this evening, my Lord Elrond, and Lords Elrohir and Elladan,” she turned to Arien and tried to muster a smile, though was sure her face was red from embarrassment, “It was a pleasure to meet you Lady Arien.”

 

She bowed and made her way out of the hall, her heart racing. She had not cried in front of anyone in years.

 

Safe in her room, she allowed herself to breathe deep, taking a long moment to wash her face in the wash bin, erasing the tear tracks. Silver light came in through the large window beside her bed, and Rian opened the curtains to lean on the rail overlooking the gardens where she and Gandalf had entered Rivendell.

 

Why did stories of the Valar and their homes in Valinor touch her heart so easily? Rian wanted to be upset, having embarrassed herself by crying, but looking out over the delicate flowers, she could imagine Valinor filled with ones just like these.  Flowers brought her the first moment of peace she had had since leaving Bree with Gandalf, something she would never tell the Dunedain if she ever saw them again. She felt a twinge in her heart as she thought of saying goodbye to them, and the conversation she and Gandalf exchanged as they rode out.

 

_ “So are you going to share what secret you have been hiding, Mithrandir?” _

 

_ Gandalf shook his head, a half-smile on his lips. _

 

_ “Rian,” his smile faded, and Rian swore she saw Gandalf age a few years - if that was possible. “I want to tell you first that I care for you very much, and I have never done anything that I thought unnecessary for your preservation.” _

 

_ Rian suddenly wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear what Gandalf had to say. _

 

_ “Do you remember my answer every time you ask about your family?” _

 

_ “That they love me very much, but they entrusted you with my care to keep you safe. You said if people knew where I came from, I would not be safe.” _

 

_ “All of that is true; I would not lie to you,” he paused, taking a moment to look around as they traveled through the dense trees, “But it’s time I tell you the story of your lineage.” _

 

Rian closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry again. Hearing her parent’s names and deeds sung by the Elves of Rivendell felt like a child being told make-believe stories at bedtime, but past all of the pomp and splendor of the songs, there was truth. Truth she did not know how to process. How should someone react when they learn their parents are the beings who created Middle Earth?

  
  
  
  



	3. Arien

Arien tossed and turned in her bed, the night’s events playing over in her mind. She knew she was fighting a losing battle, and eventually got up, wrapped her dressing gown around herself, and went to sit down on the chaise lounge by the window overlooking the valley. The sky sparkled, devoid of clouds that might block the starlight. But, despite the clear sky, her mind was clouded.

Arien had imagined meeting the other Valar children many times, but this evening had not lived up to any of those imaginations. Rian was polite but closed off. She didn't recognize Arien, at least on the outside, and had gone to bed without much conversation. Arien thought they might be able to exchange training stories or talk about their desire to go home to Valinor, not sit through a mildly uncomfortable dinner conversation followed by a hasty exit when the Fire Hall’s focus became the Valar. 

She admitted that if she hadn't seen Rian with Gandalf - and had it confirmed by Elrond that she was a Valar - she would not have pegged her as anything other than a Ranger. Her hair was crudely cut above her shoulders, and she had a hardened look in her eyes that Arien couldn't stop thinking about. Why was she so withdrawn? Moreover, why did she not acknowledge who Arien was?

Shouting sounded from somewhere out of sight, and Arien stood, thoughts of Rian fading away as she recognized the voice of Dareth, one of the captains of Elrond's guard. She knew he was coming back from monitoring the patrol of the Southern entrance to the valley, but they hadn’t expected him till the next morning. Moments after the initial shout, Dareth broke through the trees on horseback, riding hard for the central courtyard.

Without pausing to put on shoes, Arien was up and out the door, rushing down to meet Dareth as he rode in. Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan, and Gandalf were already there.

"My Lord," Dareth pulled his horse to a halt but did not dismount, "A dark creature is threatening our border. It has followed two travelers from Lothlorien here."

Elrohir and Elladan took off for the stables without another word, but Elrond stayed put.

"Where are these two travelers?" He asked.

"One is wounded, but the other is readying to face it. She claims she has bested it before, in Mirkwood."

“It is Hanna and Taelen,” Gandalf told Elrond. “I will go wake Rian.”

Elrond nodded and turned to Arien, who didn’t need another word. She turned on her heel, running back to her room, and changed into riding clothes. She grabbed her boots and a bundle with her quiver, bow, and a short sword and dashed off to the stables, where she could see Elrohir and Elladan mounting their horses before disappearing through the South doors.

 A stablehand approached her, the reins of Arien's horse in her hands, "They told me to prepare Berithul for you, Lady Arien."

Arien smiled and thanked her, mounted Berithul, and took off in the same direction as the twins. The continuous crash of her horses’ hooves on the ground could not drown out the pounding of her heart. She had been training for this her whole life.

Shouts rose from a clearing ahead, and soon Airen saw the flicker of flames through the trees. The patrol Elves stood next to several large fires, weapons drawn. But at the front fire stood a tall woman with nearly white hair, her arms outstretched. The ground in front of her quivered, and Arien heard a few gasps when large stones rose from the Earth, smashing through the trees toward a black shape.

"It's retreating into the trees. I'm going to pursue it," the woman with pale hair called out as she made to move out of the circle of trees. Arien assumed this was Hanna, one of the personages Gandalf had named.

Arien urged her horse forward, stopping the woman in her tracks. "What is this creature? Why pursue it into the trees? We should lure it out into the open.”

“It will not come into the open.” Rian stepped forward from the group of Elves around the fire, a short bow with a black arrow notched in it in her hands.

“How do you--” 

“She is getting away,” Hanna interrupted Arien, running into the dark forest.

Rian took off after her, glancing back at Arien, who dismounted her horse. Despite the cold feeling growing in her chest, she followed the other two into the darkness, warily picking her way over the roots of the forest trees. Her sword remained sheathed at her side, but she readied a hand on its hilt when she spotted Rian, who stood in another small clearing, bow still drawn.

"It stopped moving," Rian whispered to Arien, taking a deep breath. Hanna, who stood beside her, closed her eyes, stooping down to touch the ground.

"What is it?" Arien asked.

Rian shivered. "I'm not sure."

Arien started to shiver as well and saw the air around them turn into a thick mist. Tips of tree branches began to frost, and Arien thought it was too quiet. The sounds of the camp behind them had disappeared.

"She is waiting to make her move," Hanna looked sharply into the woods. Hanna's hand was buried in the ground, and when Arien could not see anything in front of them, she guessed Hanna was sensing something through the earth.

Arien’s teeth began chattering, and the mist around them intensified. A low hiss crept over the ground, and Arien resisted the urge to put her hands over her ears.

"Where is the fourth?" Whoever had spoken could have been standing next to them, the voice was so clear. 

None of them answered.

"Where is the fourth?" The voice was a little louder this time, accompanied by another wave of cold.

"Who is she talking about?" Rian whispered.

"She's talking about me." The three of them turned to see a tall man with dark red hair, and a thick bandage on his arm stumble through the thick fog.

"Taelen," Hanna took a step toward him, "You are alright?"

Before he could answer, a high-pitched laugh echoed around them.

"I see I did not kill you,  _ Valarion _ ."

A figure began to take shape in front of them, collecting the thick mist around it. Out of the darkness appeared a woman whom Arien thought would have been beautiful, if not for the evil smile on her face. Her eyes were black, as was her hair, and she was shrouded in a floating black cloak. As Arien watched, entranced, the black cloak expanded into wispy wings, attached to the woman's back.

Arien knew who this was, though she almost could not believe her eyes. Thuringwethil was a legend of dark times, the Lieutenant to Melkor in the first age. Arien had read about her ability to chill men's hearts, but she hadn't realized it meant it would cause a physical chill. Her feet were beginning to numb from the cold.

The woman cocked her head, observing the four of them, her face expressionless. She brushed her hair over her shoulder and shrugged. Taking one step toward the four of them, she flicked her wrist, and the thick air became so dense Arien fought to breathe. Taelen fell to the ground, screaming and holding his arm. Hanna knelt beside him, catching his head in her hands as he fainted. 

"Don't move again, or you will regret it," Rian's voice was steady, but Arien could see her hands shaking.

"Why would I regret it?” a smirk crept onto Thuringwethil's face, “I know you cannot harm me." 

The twang of Rian’s bowstring echoed in the small clearing, but the arrow froze a foot in front of Thuringwethil’s chest.

"You're going to have to do more than that. The weapons of a Ranger cannot harm me."

The arrow turned to dust, and Thuringwethil took another step forward. At the same moment, Arien stepped in front of Rian and held up her hands. Her palms started to glow, and the cold air sparked with electricity.

"You will move no closer," her voice shook, but she took a deep breath and felt the muscle memory fall into place as she traced a symbol in the air with two fingers. A bolt of lightning sprang out of her hands, striking the ground in front of Thuringwethil. The demon hissed, taking a step back.

“He said you would be dangerous,” Thuringwethil flexed her fingers, revealing long, black talons.

“What do you want? Why are you here?” Arien asked, taking another step toward her. 

“Just kill her,” Rian grabbed Arien’s arm, “We can ask questions later.”

“Do you not want to know what my Master wants to offer you?” Thuringwethil asked, “Do you not want to know what power he can give you?”

Arien hesitated only a moment before sending another bolt of lighting at Thuringwethil, but the demon was already gone, her black shape flying fast past the treetops and away to the south. The cold dissipated as she disappeared into the night, but the frost remained on the foliage around them. Wisps of black mist lingered where Thuringwethil had stood, and Arien walked over, kneeling beside them.

"We need to get Taelen to a healer," Hanna sobbed.

"I will help you carry him back to the camp," Rian said,already stooping to put her arms around Taelen’s torso.

Arien realized she could hear noises from the camp again, including the sounds of Elrohir and Elladan calling for her. She looked over her shoulder and watched Rian and Hanna carry Taelen through the trees, a feat that seemed easier than she would have assumed. Turning back to the black tendrils, she pulled out a small notebook and a piece of charcoal from her pocket and began to sketch an image of both the mist and Thuringwethil.

Arien had read many accounts of Thuringwethil, Melkor’s trusted Lieutenant, but had never read of this black substance. It seemed denser than smoke but more manipulatable than solid matter. Almost like a liquid in the way it waved and blended together. She reached out to it with caution, not sure if she should touch it or not, but before she could pull her hand back, the tendrils reached out and met her fingertips.

Suddenly the forest was gone, and all Arien could see was darkness. Images slowly formed in front of her, a tall chair and several pillars shaped out of stone. A black shape moved from behind one of the pillars to stand in front of the chair. From the blackness, a hand emerged, and then a body. It was Thuringwethil, and from her cloak, she produced a glowing stone, more beautiful than any Arien had ever seen. It burned Thuringwethil’s hand, but the demon did not acknowledge the pain. She placed the stone on the tall chair and bowed her head. A rift grew above the chair and more of the mysterious dark substance billowed out, onto the throne and down its sides. It seemed to shiver before settling, allowing the rift to close.

"You've done well, Thuringwethil," the voice was deep and labored, and the darkness began to form a recognizable shape.

"Thank you, my Lord," Thuringwethil bowed her head.

Before the darkness settled into its proper form, the scene shifted, and Arien gasped. A city was burning. Shouts, mixed with horrifying cries, sounded around her. She saw a host of orcs and other foul creatures swarm the city gates, killing all in their path. Unarmed men and women ran for their lives, calling out prayers of desperation moments before they were slain, their bodies left to lay in the blood-filled streets.

Again, the image changed. Arien saw her own body lying on a long stone table made from the same material as the throne and pillars in the first image. Her body was dressed in thin white cloth, with silver rings on her fingers and diamonds pinned to her hair. Arien watched as a bright blue light rose from the chest of her body. It illuminated the room, reflecting off the many gems strewn about on the table.

Arien raised a hand to shield her eyes from the light, but then it was all gone. The table, her body, the light. She was lying on her back on the forest floor, the stars in the sky visible beyond the treetops. Her body would not move; every limb was feeling heavier than a fallen tree. She tried to shout, but no sound came. The trees above began to spin, and Arien could not keep her eyes open any longer.

  
  
  
  



	4. Rian

Rian didn’t know why she was waiting outside the Healing Ward. Of course, Gandalf and Lord Elrond had told her to, but she had decided before that she wasn’t going to listen to them. There was something about what happened at the Southern Border, and something about finding Arien lying motionless on the forest floor, that made her stay.

The pair who rode in from Lothlorien, Hanna and Taelen, also intrigued her. Taelen had been ushered into the Healing Ward after Lord Elrond caught sight of his arm. The winged demon - Thuringwethil was what Gandalf called it - had scratched him from his elbow to his wrist. Taelen said he was an experienced healer, but nothing he did could close his wound. Rian, who had seen her fair share of grotesque injuries, but this one left her with bile in the throat. The edges of the cut were black and flaking, and the inside looked cauterized.

“Do you think the other girl has woken up yet?” Hanna, whose white-blonde hair was streaked with dirt and debris, asked from across the room.

Rian shrugged, folding her arms and leaning back in the chair she had pulled to the open window. Hanna had been pacing since Taelen was admitted, wringing her hands like a mother worried about a sick child.

“I wish they would come out and talk to us,” Hanna said, “They have been in there for at least an hour.”

“You should get some rest,” Rian told her, “It could be a lot longer.”

Hanna looked at her with watery eyes. “A lot longer?”

“Look,” Rian refrained from rolling her eyes. “Lord Elrond is the best healer in Middle Earth, I am sure your friend will be alright. But you will not be unless you get some sleep. How long has it been since you got a decent night's rest?”

“I, well, probably a few weeks. We did not dare stop because of the --”

“You rode from Lothlorien without sleep?” Rian stood, crossing to Hanna and gently guiding her out the door. The Dunedain could travel without much rest, and Elves could as well, but Rian had never met another person who could go weeks without it-- but, Rian knew now why she had never met another person like her.

“We needed to get to Rivendell; Radagast said the time had come.” Hanna’s words grew heavier with each step they took, her eyes drooping.

Rian guided Hanna to her own room, which was thankfully close, as the latter was nearly asleep in Rian’s arms. Rian helped her into the bed, dirty clothes and all, and left to find an Elf who could ensure Hanna woke up to a hot bath, fresh clothes, and plenty of food. It was muscle memory, a callback to the many times she would do this for drunk patrons in The Prancing Pony. Butterbur told her it wasn’t necessary, but she knew many of those men had families they were riding to the next morning, and damned if she wasn’t going to help others get home.

After ensuring Hanna would be taken care of, Rian made her way back to the entrance to the Healing Ward. A few elves were walking in and out of the large door, leaving it open wide enough for Rian to see Gandalf standing with Taelen. She walked over, catching the end of what Gandalf was saying,

 

“You should carry that vial with you until we know Thuringwethil cannot return. Others may not hold out as long as you.”

 

She saw a small glass bottle in Taelen’s hand filled with a green liquid. A new bandage was wrapped around his forearm, but he no longer held it to his side.

 

“Ah, Rian,” Gandalf noticed her watching them through the open door, “Is Hanna with you?”

 

“No, I took her to get some rest.” Rian folded her arms. She wasn’t going to let Gandalf get Hanna back up before she had had some sleep.

 

“Good,” Gandalf’s response surprised her. He turned to Taelen and said, “You should also get some rest. It has been a hard journey for both of you. We can discuss your news when you have slept.”

 

He tasked another passing Elf with guiding Taelen to a room he could stay in, then turned to Rian and said, “I expect you have made the connection to who they are by now?”

“Do not assume I have,” she looked past him, “Why should I be expected to understand who they are when I barely know who I am?”

“Rian, I told you why I had to --”

“I have every right to be upset.” She kept her voice level. She wanted to tell him she knew who Hanna and Taelen were, how she’d known after the evening in the Fire Hall who Arien was, and how she feared the reason they all gathered in Rivendell now. But she could not get the words past her hot anger.

“Yes.” Gandalf stopped trying to get her to make eye contact and slumped his shoulders a bit. “You do have every right to be upset.”

He looked like he was trying to gather himself again, but as he opened his mouth, Elrond came out of a nearby room and beckoned Gandalf to join him. Rian followed, and neither Elrond or Gandalf stopped her.

The room they entered was dimly lit, with heavy curtains drawn over the windows and incense burning in a corner. Arien lay on a bed in the center of the room, looking the same as she had when Rian found her -- pale and motionless.

“I can wake her now, but I wanted you to be here,” Elrond said to Gandalf, who nodded and sat in a chair at the side of the bed. Elrond placed a hand on Arien’s forehead and whispered words in Elvish Rian did not understand, but moments later, Arien’s eyes flew open and she began gasping for air.

“Melkor--” she cried out between gulps of air.

“Be careful.” Elrond put a hand on her shoulder. “Tell us what happened.”

“I saw Thuringwethil bring Melkor from the void with a stone that looked like a Silmaril--” Arien rushed through her words faster than Rian could listen to them. “He was allowed out of the Void, and a city burned, then I saw myself, and there was a strange light coming out of my body, it all scared me, Ada, I felt endlessly cold, I--”

She started crying and fell forward into Elrond’s arms. Elrond held her, looking at Gandalf, who nodded and stood, ushering Rian out of the room.

“Let us give her some space,” he said gently, but his face had an intense focus Rian had only seen a few times before. “I feared your encounter with Thuringwethil would put events into motion you were not ready for.”

The sight of Arien shooting lightning from her hands flashed through Rian’s mind-- she couldn’t agree with Gandalf more.

“Why do I not have powers like Arien?” The words tumbled out despite her internal protest. Her hands immediately felt clammy, and she wanted to run away.

“You -- you do, Rian,” Gandalf shook his head, “But I have not trained you to use them as Lord Elrond has trained Arien.”

“Hanna threw giant rocks she conjured out of the Earth at the demon as well--”

“And as Radagast has trained Hanna, as well as I’m sure Lady Galadriel has taught Taelen. But you were different. I had to be careful.”

“Careful? Why?” Rian’s voice grew harsher.

 

“Because I feared your power, it was greater than I could control. I wanted to wait until you were older, until you could understand more, and control it yourself. But the time never came, and years slipped by due to my negligence.”

Rian didn’t know how to respond. She did not want to stand beside him. She did not want to listen to him anymore.

“I stand no chance of helping in a fight against Thuringwethil, let alone Melkor. You have crippled me and crippled the others. If I go with them, I am a burden - a weak link.” 

 

Rian turned and walked away, ignoring Gandalf as he called after her. She knew it was childish, but she did not know what else to do, and soon found herself crashing through the door to her room.

“Aaah!” Hanna and Rian yelled at the same time, each startled by the other.

“I am so sorry,” Rian said, taking a deep breath. “I forgot you were in here.”

“I did not realize this was your room,” Hanna said on top of Rian. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” Rian did not understand until she felt a tear slide down her cheek. “Damnit,” she exclaimed, “I have not cried in over ten years, and in two days in Rivendell, I have cried more than my entire lifetime.”

 

“Elven magic?” Hanna shrugged. The smile she gave Rian was awkward, but not unappreciated.

“Did you get any rest?” Rian asked, sighing, and sitting on the bed beside Hanna.

“Yes, briefly,” Hanna said, stifling a yawn. “I am concerned about Taelen.”

“He is alright. I saw him leave the Healing Ward. Arien is awake as well. I think she had some sort of vision caused by Thuringwethil.”

“A vision?”

Rian was about to respond when there was a knock at the door. She went and opened it, surprised to see Lord Elrond, Arien, and Taelen on the other side.

“Come in,” she said after a moment of hesitation. They moved past her, and she closed the door. Arien and Taelen sat on the bed next to Hanna. Rian stood to the side, crossing her arms as she watched Lord Elrond sit in the only other chair in the room.

“Arien has had a vision,” Elrond said, and Rian and Hanna exchanged a look. “She has seen Melkor’s return and given us insight into his plan. In her vision, Thuringwethil held a Silmaril, and using its power, she broke the seal on the Void, allowing Melkor to slip back into the physical world.

“I am not sure how she came by a Silmaril; they have been lost for two ages. But somehow, she has found them.”

“She already has them?” Rian asked.

“We are not sure, but we sent scouts to follow her retreat from the Southern Border, and perhaps they can discover the answer.”

“And you told them to look for the Silmarils?”

“They will bring back any information they can glean. It is hard to hide a Silmaril.” Elrond raised his eyebrow at Rian. “My recommendation for you four is to wait here ‘til the scouts return.”

“How long will they be gone?” Taelen asked, surprising Rian, who was about to ask the same question.

“I am hoping they will be back within a week or two, but I am not sure.”

“A week or two?” Hanna’s eyes widened. “That is too long! We don’t know what kind of destruction she can bring in that time!”

“She has not harmed anyone besides you four, as far as we know,” Elrond replied. “She has a specific mission, I am not worried about her attacking anyone besides you.”

“I vote we leave now,” Rian pursed her lips. “We can scout for information ourselves.”

“You are not ready to leave,” Elrond shook his head. “It would not be wise.”

“I am not ready to leave,” Arien spoke for the first time, her voice quiet. Rian noticed for the first time that Arien’s face was still ashen, and she kept tugging on a loose thread on the bed linens.

“You should all rest,” Elrond said, speaking to all of them but keeping his eyes on Arien.

Rian didn’t have the energy to argue anymore, especially when Arien looked ready to burst into tears, and she wanted them all out of her room anyway. They left her, Elrond asking as he closed the door if she would like some food sent to her room, which she declined. She had too much to think about.

 

  
  
  
  



	5. Hanna

Hanna rolled over in her bed, scrunching the bedding around her, wishing she had never woken from her sleep in Rian’s room. She had been told to rest after Lord Elrond spoke to them, but how did anyone expect her to relax knowing Thuringwethil was out there, and they weren’t leaving to pursue her immediately?

Thuringwethil had chased Hanna from her home in Mirkwood and then continued the chase after Hanna and Taelen had left Lothlorien. Hanna had sought safety from the demon in Rivendell. That was until she saw Arien’s power in the forest. It was evident to her that Arien could face Thuringwethil - so why were they not leaving?

Hanna sighed, sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. There was a green dress laid out along with a pair of soft slippers that must have found their way into the room during one of her brief bouts of sleep. Along with this, was a large tub filled with water and various soaps, their smell reminding her of home during the spring.

Home felt far away as she washed off the dirt and grime from the past few weeks of travel. Mirkwood wasn’t the most delightful place in Middle Earth, though she had always done her best to keep the small hut she shared with Radagast friendly and inviting. There was no way to compare it to the splendor of Rivendell’s delicate archways and vaulted ceilings that stretched into hallways with tapestries of Middle Earth’s history. She was amazed by the architecture, but also with the carefully tended gardens and fields. The view outside her window stretched on for leagues, showcasing flowers and grassy knolls dotted with elegantly trimmed trees and bushes. It was a mini paradise, but for the darkness haunting the recesses of her mind.

Hanna needed to distract herself, and she wandered out of her room after dressing in hopes of doing just that. Perhaps Taelen had had trouble sleeping as well. If what had happened to him, happened to her, she wasn’t sure if she would ever sleep soundly again. Though she mostly blamed herself for that.

_ Freezing water swirled around Hanna’s ankles, the sensation welcome as she stooped to refill her and Taelen’s water sacks. The sun was casting an eerie blue glow through the morning mist, and Hanna would return to the camp to wake Taelen in a moment, but they had not had fresh water since leaving Lothlorien, and when Taelen had told her he sensed a clean stream nearby when they stopped the previous night she couldn’t resist stepping away from camp to surprise him. _

__

_ As she stepped out of the water, putting the water sacks down to put her shoes back on, the hair on her neck suddenly stood up. The cold water, which had been soothing on her swollen feet moments before, became bitterly cold, biting her skin. Her heart dropped, and she ran for the camp, the water sacks forgotten. _

__

_ Hanna broke through the trees in time to see Thuringwethil raise her arm over Taelen’s sleeping figure. _

_ “TAELEN!” she screamed, watching the demon’s long black talons slash through the air and cut Talen’s arm - which he had raised in alarm at Hanna’s cry. Taelen yelled in pain, pushing himself away from Thuringwethil. _

__

_ Hanna screamed again in panic, knowing what came after Thuringwethil’s talons cut through something. “Stay away from him!” _

__

_ She raised her hands, the rocks around the camp raising as well, and clenched her fists. The stones flew at Thuringwethil in unison, but the demon just laughed and flew out of their reach, disappearing above the treetops. _

__

_ “Taelen, Taelen!” Hanna called to him, running to where he had pushed himself. _

__

_ “Water, I need water,” he whispered, holding his injured arm. _

__

_ Hanna took off back to the river and the forgotten water sacks, willing herself to move faster than she ever had before. She grabbed both of them and was back by Taelen’s side in a minute, looking at his horrific wound - three deep gashes in his forearm, almost to the bone. The skin had turned grey, but it wasn’t peeling as she had expected. _

__

_ Taelen took the water from her, pouring one of the sack’s entire contents over his wound. He put his hand close to the surface, muttering a few words Hanna didn’t recognize. When he moved his hand again, the skin was not grey anymore but looked oddly burned. _

__

_ “Why did it not close?” Taelen asked himself. _

__

_ “How did you do that?” Hanna asked at the same time. _

__

_ “I have never had a wound I could not heal - we need to get to Rivendell.” Taelen stood, leaning on Hanna for support. “Lord Elrond can help me.” _

Hanna swallowed painfully as she thought about the ride to Rivendell that followed that morning. It was all she could do to not run back to her room and hide until the memory of Thuringwethil’s cold laughter had faded.

“Are you alright?”

Hanna swore, clutching her chest.

“Oh, um, sorry.” Rian stepped gingerly out of the shadows at the end of the hallway. Hanna would have been more embarrassed about not noticing her, but Rian was dressed in all black, and Hanna guessed there was more to Rian than met the eye.

“You were standing in the middle of the hallway a long time,” Rian said. “I was worried something was wrong.”

Hanna grimaced. “I, I lost track of what I was doing?”

“That’s a question?” Rian raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” Hanna rubbed her hands on the front of her dress.

“Well, I am not sure what you were doing before, but if you want, we could head to the food hall together? I believe they are serving the mid-day meal.”

Hanna just nodded, trying to take a few deep breaths. She wished she hadn’t been thinking about Thuringwethil.

She and Rian walked to the food hall without any further conversation, which Hanna couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or not. They sat at the same table, and Hanna tried not to eat too fast as Rian picked at her food.

“I assume your journey to Rivendell was not very pleasant,” Rian said at last, pushing her plate away.

Hanna shrugged, laughing awkwardly. “It could have been better.”

“Did Thuringwethil follow you from Lothlorien?”

“She had been following me since I left Mirkwood,” Hanna shuddered. “In fact, she was the reason I left Mirkwood.”

“What happened?” Rian asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“She attacked me.” Hanna gulped water from her glass and put her hands in her lap. “Radagast knew the time had come if she had been able to find me again, and I needed to get word to Elrond.”

“Again? She had attacked you before?”

Hanna tried to take a deep breath but ended up coughing. Tears came to her eyes, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the coughing fit or the memory. She pushed herself away from the table and nearly tripped over her feet as she stood.

“Sorry, um, excuse me,” she said in between coughs.

Rian gaped at her as she left, but Hanna didn’t wait to see if she would follow her. It would have been easy to get lost in the endless hallways and open-air rooms, but Hanna let her feet guide her to a small garden somewhere just outside of the central courtyard. She had stopped coughing, but her heart raced, and her face was flushed. She wished so badly that Taelen was there.

_ “Was it something I said?” Taelen asked, frowning. _

__

_ Hanna shook her head, “No -- no, I have just never spoken about those memories. I mean, other than Radagast, who was I to tell?” _

__

_ “You have not spoken to anyone besides Radagast since then? I feel honored to be your first!” He wiggled his eyebrows, and Hanna laughed. “In all seriousness, though,” Taelen lowered his voice, “I am sorry you had to see that. No child should ever have that memory.” _

__

_ He reached across and took her hand in his, and Hanna felt warmth spread from his touch. But it didn’t quite reach her memory. _

That memory. Hanna grimaced, sitting on the hard ground with her palms touching the soil. She took a deep breath, grounding her thoughts as images of Thuringwethil’s talons passed through her mind.

“Was it something I said?”

Rian walked toward her, hands splayed in front of her. Hanna blinked, taking her hands off the ground and placing them in her lap.

“No! No, I just -- the only one I have ever talked to about Thuringwethil is Taelen, and I was, I was not expecting you to ask.” She bowed her head, trying to hide her red cheeks.

“It’s alright,” Rian said, sitting next to her. “You do not have to tell me, but perhaps it would be good to practice talking about it?”

“I am not sure, I--”

“You do not have to if you do not feel comfortable.”

“I appreciate that,” Hanna said, taking a deep breath, “But you are probably right. It would be good for you to know and good for me to talk about it.”

She took another deep breath and moved off her knees, crossing her legs as she plucked a strand of grass out of the ground and ran it through her fingers.

“Thuringwethil killed my Mother and Father.” The words caught in her throat. “And she has haunted my dreams for many years.”

“Thuringwethil killed two of the Valar?” Rian exclaimed, her eyes wide.

“No, no - sorry,” Hanna said hurriedly. “A couple in Lake Town raised me, and I believed I was their daughter. I grew up with occasional trips to, and visits from, Radagast. He would teach me small things about my powers, telling me they were a secret, and my parents would help me practice while he was away. It was wonderful, and I loved them very much.

“One day, when I was returning with Radagast from a visit to his home in Mirkwood, we heard screams coming from my house.” Tears started to well up in her eyes, but she kept going. “Radagast tried to make me leave, but I broke free from him and ran as fast as I could, knowing something was wrong.

“When I got to the house, it had gone quiet. The air was cold and lifeless, but as I walked up the stairs, I heard Thuringwethil cackle, and when I turned, my parents were lying dead on the floor with her hovering over them, their blood on her hands. Their skin was torn and had gone an ashy grey. If I had touched them, I am convinced their skin would have fallen off in large flakes -- it was cracked and dry.”

“That is horrible,” Rian said as Hanna paused to wipe the tears from her face. “How did you escape Thuringwethil?”

“Radagast had run after me. As soon as she saw him, she left.” Hanna put her head in her hands. “I have never been able to rid myself of that horrible image, Thuringwethil over Mehr and Danelle. Nor have I ever stopped missing them.

“Radagast would leave me alone for months on end. He, of course, left me with plenty of food and necessities, and there were lots of protective wards on the hut we shared, but this last week of traveling with Taelen has been the first time in fifteen years I have had a companion for more than a few days.”

“I know what loneliness is like,” Rian sighed after a moment, placing a tentative hand on Hanna’s back. “Gandalf left me in the care of several different families in Bree for most of my childhood, visiting every few months as you said Radagast would do. The families passed me around, unwanted, and held at arm's length. I was different from the other kids, but they couldn’t tell me why.”

“I am sorry, I did not know,” Hanna said, lifting her head out of her hands.

“Your experience is not singular,” Rian shrugged. “But, I have not been haunted by Thuringwethil in my dreams.”

“If I do nothing else,” Hanna clenched her fists, balling up the fabric of her dress. “I will see that Thuringwethil meets her end. I will not let others be harmed by her.”

“Then, you are not going to be happy when I tell you Gandalf and Lord Elrond are not planning on us leaving any time soon.”

“What?” Hanna raised her voice, and the rock sitting a foot or so away cracked.

“I know.” Rian dropped her head. “I think we need to take things into our own hands - we cannot trust others to understand the urgency.”

“No,” Hanna said, waving her hand over the broken rock. The fissure disappeared with a snap. “No, we need to act on our own. We need to track Thuringwethil down.”

  
  
  
  



	6. Taelen

Taelen wasn’t sure what to do once Lord Elrond dismissed him from the healing ward. He searched for Hanna with no success, which was a disappointment. He had hoped to spend time with her when they weren’t scared for their lives - he was anxious to see if the connection he felt with her would continue. Nonetheless, he greeted everyone he met with a smile while he worked his way to the stables to check on his horse, Felarof.

The stables were more substantial than the ones in Lothlorien, but not by much. Its stalls were well kept, with mahogany posts and doors and plenty of straw on the ground. Taelen immediately felt at home, taking comfort in the familiar smell of horses and leather. A kind stablehand introduced himself as Baron after Taelen had been standing around for a few minutes, and promptly directed the later to his stallion and brought him a bucket of sudsy water and a set of brushes.

“He’s a beautiful creature,” Baron said, gesturing to Felarof.

“Thank you,” Taelen laughed, used to the love his chestnut companion always received. “He has been through a lot in the last few weeks.”

“I heard you journeyed here from Lothlorien, that’s not an easy thing to do in such a short time.”

“It is easier when you are driven by the darkness that followed us,” Taelen murmured, beginning to lather up Felarof’s coat.

Baron opened his mouth but stopped short of asking his question when another Elf rode into the enclosure. He left Taelen to his washing and brushing for a few minutes before bringing the newcomer over.

“Mára rë,” the Elf greeted him. He was tall, with a fair face and pale braided hair.

“Mára rë,” Taelen answered with a wave..

“Do you mind if I share your paddock while I rub my horse down?”

“Not at all.”

Baron left the two, who took care of their horses in silence, till the Elf struck up a bit of conversation.

“My name is Legolas, son of Thranduil; I hail from Mirkwood. The stablehand told me you came from Lothlorien, have you been summoned to Lord Elrond’s council as well?”

Taelen shook his head, “I have come here to council with Lord Elrond, but my business does not concern more than me and my kin.” He was not sure how much he should be telling of his purpose in Rivendell, as well-intentioned as this Elf, Legolas, might be.

“I wish I could say the same,” Legolas said as he gave his horse one last sweep with his brush. “But perhaps my fear is in vain.”

Taelen set his brush down as well and gave Felarof a scratch under the chin before turning to leave.

“Are you going back to the main house?” he asked Legolas, pausing in the doorframe of the stall.

“Yes, if you don’t mind the company I will join you if you are headed there as well.”

“Extra company is always welcome,” Taelen smiled. He led the way out, asking Legolas how his journey had been, curious about the path he took from Mirkwood.

“My friend I came here with is from Mirkwood,” he mentioned after Legolas recounted his uneventful, albeit tiring, travels. Hanna had told Taelen many stories of the dark forest, most of which convinced him to not to visit if he had the choice.

“I had not known of any other Elves from my father’s realm traveling this way.”

“Oh, she’s not an Elf –“ Taelen stopped and blinked a few times, trying to think of a way to retract his statement. Could he trust this Elf? He was so used to speaking to everyone in Lothlorien openly, but was that to be the norm here?

“I don’t know of any humans living in Mirkwood.” Legolas furrowed his brow.

“I, well – “

Arien came around the corner at that moment; the setting sun reflected on the silver circlet she wore. She smiled when she saw Taelen, hurrying down the path to greet him. Taelen couldn’t help but notice the subtle double-take Legolas did when he saw her, though seeing Arien smile with the radiance of her Valar heritage for the first time, Taelen couldn’t blame him. But she was not Hanna.

“Taelen! Hanna is looking for you,” she said. “She doesn't want you to miss dinner.”

Taelen’s heart swelled at the mention of Hanna looking for him. “Not to worry, I was coming back to change in time.” 

“You should have a clean change of clothes set out in your room, but if you don’t want to change I doubt Ada would stop you from joining the festivities.”

It was nice for Taelen to see Arien smiling and joking after the events of last night. Her face had been solemn and pale when recounting her vision of Melkor, an understandable reaction in his opinion. He had wanted to reach out to her, help her in any way, but felt like the help was out-of-place when Lord Elrond had been so adamant that he be the one to care for her. He was curious, though, what was the truth behind her outer appearance?

“Arien, forgive the late introduction, this is Legolas of Mirkwood,” Taelen said, grabbing her hand and pulling her to stand next to Legolas. He didn’t let go of her hand quickly, taking a moment to tap into her vein of emotions. His vision was colored with grey. Uncertainty and fear - he recognized the meaning of the color - a direct contrast to her happy smiling face, but the truth he had suspected.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Arien smiled and nodded her head.

“The pleasure is mine, my lady,” Legolas bowed.

“I am expected in Ada’s study, but I hope to meet you again, Legolas – and Taelen, make sure you are not late for dinner.”

She winked and gave Legolas a close-lipped smile before hurrying back toward the house. Taelen made a mental note to find her later this evening and see if he could help with her uncertainty and fear.

“Is her father one of the Eldar?” Legolas asked as soon Arien disappeared from view.

Taelen hemmed and hawed for a moment. “Not exactly, but she was referring to Lord Elrond as Ada, if that is why you are asking.”

“I did not know Lord Elrond had more than one daughter–”

“She’s an adopted daughter.”

“Ah, I see,” Legolas furrowed his brow, “She has a light about her I have not met before.”

“She is unique.” Taelen breathed a sigh of relief as they crossed the threshold into the open hallways of the main house. “But I must excuse myself if I am to follow her instructions to be on time to dinner.”

“Of course! Thank you for the company. I am sure we will meet again.”

They parted ways, and Taelen found his way to his room. The tunic and leggings laid out for him were of fine cloth and ran over his hands like water when he touched them. Fitting, he thought, but the thought did make his heart race. It had been a few weeks since he had used his powers, and he was anxious to find somewhere in Rivendell to practice on his own.

There was a time when he was supposed to come to Rivendell to practice something else. The memory ran through his mind, remembering the small enclosure he had so often sat in with Galadriel.

“Do you remember when you first realized you have the ability to heal and grieve with others?” she had asked him as they sat in a grove lit by starlight.

“It gave clarity to my parentage, somewhat.” Taelen answered.

“We knew the power of the Vala Nienna flowed through you. You could weep with the broken and mend their hearts with your words, and with it came great healing of wounds with your hands. You are the most gifted healer Lothlorien has seen since the first age.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” Taelen dipped his head, pleased at the compliment despite having heard it many times before.

“You are burdened with the mystery of your father.” Her voice was soft. “Nienna does not have a known spouse.”

“I have tried not to let it affect me –“

“I know: you have grown wonderfully, nostaler.”

They sat watching a breeze stir the grass and leaves for a moment before she spoke again.

“I had hoped I would be able to discern who your father might be. You must know what powers you might have inherited from him, but despite all my searching, that part of you remains hidden from me.”

“I’ve tried to help,” he said quickly, I’ve wanted to connect with him like I have my Mother, I –“

“It is no fault of your own, but I fear I have helped you as much as I can.”

Taelen turned his head in surprise. “What are you saying?”

“Lord Elrond of Rivendell has offered his help in furthering your training as a Healer, he is more skilled than any Elf here and can –“

“But leave Lothlorien? I thought I wouldn’t until I was ready!” He stood, his eyes wide. He felt ashamed reacting as one less than his age, but leaving Lothlorien was not something he had considered as a solution.

“I will not make you leave, this is the only home you can remember, and I would not take it from you,” Galadriel said. “But I would encourage you to search for answers in Rivendell. I would think connecting with your kin might help.”

Taelen knew Galadriel was referencing Lord Elrond’s charge, another Valar child. He had heard whispers of her great beauty and power, and rumors of her lineage. Elves on patrol said they’d met with messengers from Rivendell who told them she was the daughter of the Vala Manwe and his Queen, Varda – the joint leaders of the Valar. He had felt envy at first. It sounded easy, knowing your full lineage, confident in your role in events to come. But he was coaxed to sympathy by Rumil who said it must be hard knowing your parents are the two most powerful beings on Arda.

He knew in his heart what Galadriel was saying was a well-meant idea, and if she felt confident in being able to help him further, she would. But she was as close to a mother he had ever known, and his heart dropped at the thought of leaving her side.

“You have never led me wrong.” Taelen took a deep breath. “I will follow your instruction and go to Rivendell.”

Galadriel placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling, though he could see the sadness in her eyes.

“We must find hope and joy in this next chapter, nostaler, for too much sadness, will weigh you down. Home will always be where you find joy, whether in Lothlorien or Rivendell.”

The memory stayed with him as he made his way to the dining hall. Hanna already sat at a head table with Rian and Arien on her left. She beamed and waved when she saw him, motioning at the empty spot beside her. He wondered why they were sitting at a table with Lord Elrond and his sons, but forgot all about that as Hanna started to explain how she had slept most of the day away, and by the time she had woken up he was headed to the stables.

“The wizard – Gandalf – found myself and Rian before dinner, passing along a message from Lord Elrond that there would be a feast in our honor tonight,” she explained. “Hence I sent Arien out looking for you. I was worried I would get lost trying to find you, and she was very willing–“

The food came out just then, loaves of bread and cheese, honey and fruit, and numerous savory dishes Taelen had not tried before. He grinned, piling his plate high before turning back to Hanna.

“Forgive me; I’m starving. You were saying?”

“Oh, I sent Arien to look for you. I was afraid I would get lost if I tried to look for you, and Arien was more than willing. I think she was glad to have something to do.”

The two of them glanced down the table at Arien, who laughed at something Elladan said. Taelen opened his mouth to comment to Hanna, but just then, a haggard Elf ran into the Hall, straight up to where Lord Elrond sat. The Elf made quiet remarks to Lord Elrond, who stood, motioning to Gandalf before following the Elf out of the room. Gandalf stood immediately and walked over to where the four Vala sat.

“We had best hurry. Something is happening at the Ford of Bruinen.”

Rian and Arien stood without hesitation, following Lord Elrond’s path out of the Hall, with Taelen and Hanna a few paces behind them. He led them down a few hallways before climbing a winding staircase to the top of a tower overlooking the West Gate, and beyond that the Ford.

“It’s the nine, they’ve followed your Hobbit,” Lord Elrond said to Gandalf. They could see just over the wall a group of black horses across the river. There was a single white horse on this side, its rider no larger than a child.

“We must stop them from crossing, or all hope is lost,” Gandalf muttered, his face determined.

“I can flood the river, but I’m not sure if it will be fast enough to dismount them,” Lord Elrond shook his head and held his hands out in front of him, readying himself to cast his spell on the waters.

“Perhaps I can help?” Taelen spoke, though he was surprised to hear his voice volunteer to help these two beings of renowned power.

Gandalf furrowed his brow. “You can help move the river? How –“

“That does not matter right now,” said Lord Elrond, though his face reflected Gandalf’s puzzled tone. “Whatever help you can give Taelen, I will take it.”

Taelen stood next to Lord Elrond, taking a deep breath and relaxing his stance. He moved both his hands in a pulling motion, an act that was immediately followed by a roar, and within seconds a wave of water as tall as the forest trees rounded the bend, heading straight for the Black Riders. Taelen gritted his teeth and planted his feet – it was more water than he expected. A drop of perspiration slid down his brow while he concentrated and made the pulling motion again, careful to not add any extra movements. He looked to his right and saw Gandalf standing with Lord Elrond, the two of them focused on the river, speaking various spells in Elvish. The water started to take the shape of knights riding powerful horses holding sharp lances. Taelen made one last pull, exerting his will on the wave and sending it crashing into the dark figures, washing them away. He took care to make the water avoid the Hobbit who had fallen from the white horse, holding his breath as he waited for the water to settle into its river once more.

“We –“ Gandalf took a labored breath-- “are going to have to talk about that.”

“But not now, we must aid Frodo,” Lord Elrond turned to Arien. “Instruct Elrohir and Elladan to find me when they have dismissed the guests.”

He and Gandalf left, the latter giving Taelen one last glance before descending the staircase.

“That was impressive,” Arien said, turning to him, an eyebrow cocked. “Galadriel had not sent word that you held the powers of Ulmo.”

Taelen shrugged. “I like to surprise.”

“Ulmo?” Rian asked.

“The Valar who controls the waters of Arda,” Arien answered, “But he has no known spouse, so no one thought to look for a child from him.”

“I would like to believe we don’t know everything about the lives of the Valar,” said Taelen. He had thought about this many times. He thought it would bother him more, yet he felt nothing but peace when thinking of his parents.

“Of course.” Hanna placed a hand on his arm and gave Arien a stern look.

“I didn’t mean – I simply was trying to say why this is a shock, I’m sorry.” Arien blushed and turned around, heading down the stairs. Taelen felt bad; he hadn’t meant she needed to apologize. Her comment hadn’t upset him.

Later that evening, everyone had retired to their rooms, and Taelen sat on the edge of his bed, looking at his hands. He had to admit to himself, what he had done on the tower was a first. He had moved water many times in the last two years, manipulated it in nearly every way imaginable, but never an amount this great. And never had he been so exhausted after. He knew that after an afternoon of practice, he would feel worn out, but he found it hard to sit up right now. He had to move, though, when there was a knock at his door.

He groaned as he stood and ambled across the room to open it. Rian was on the other side when he got there, her arms folded across her chest. She wore a dark robe, similar to the one he had found in his closet. Taelen guessed from the nervous aura around her that she had not been to sleep yet.

“Rian, are you all right?”

“May I come in for a moment? I need to talk to you.”

“Of course,” He moved to the side, gesturing for her to enter. She brushed past him, sitting herself down on a chair in the corner.

"Did something happen?”

“No,” She answered, “But I’m hoping you can help me.”

“I will try my best.”

She made eye contact with him, and he noticed her eyes were the same grey he saw earlier when he’d tapped into Arien’s emotions. They held nearly the same uncertainty and fear, too.

“How did you figure out you had water powers?” The question blurted out from her lips, and she grimaced.

“How did I – like, what did I do?”

“All of it. What were you doing, how did you do it, how can you do it now, any information helps.”

Taelen blinked, exhaling sharply. Did Rian not know her Valar powers?


	7. Taelen

*Two years prior*

 

Fall in Lothlorien shone in golden hues on the large Malorn leaves which glinted in the late-year sun, giving a warm ambiance as Taelen urged his horse forward. Behind him were Rumil and Orophin, and the three of them were on the road to Rivendell, a path new to Taelen. He had been reluctant to leave his home in Caras Galadhon, but he obeyed Lady Galadriel’s desire for him to journey to the House of Elrond to continue his training as a healer. 

“Slow down Taelen, we’ll be out of the woods soon enough,” called Rumil in a cheerful voice. 

“I am not sure what you mean by soon enough, my friend,” Taelen smiled back at him. “I am anxious to rest and eat.”

Orophin humphed. “If you are not careful, you’ll eat all our provisions before we’re in sight of Imladris.”

“And I’ll be sure to finish off your portion first!” Taelen said, his eyes twinkling. “I see I was mistaken, my dear Orophin, thinking you had forgiven me for finishing off the sweetbreads this morning.”

The blonde Elf grumbled, pushing his horse past Taelen’s.

Most of the day went like this, and the woods around them thinned as they neared its end. From the edge of Lothlorien, it would be about a week and a half of smooth riding. They had planned to go over Caradhras, and on through the valley till they reached Imladris. Taelen had heard many elves speak of its beauty and wonder, though he hardly imagined it could be as magnificent as his beloved woods of Lorien. He smiled and laughed, but he couldn’t shake the uncertainty lurking in his heart. For years he had known the journey to Rivendell would come, but had hoped to ride with more confidence than he was now.

Taelen stopped, his eyes on the ground, and a hand over his heart. 

“What is wrong?” Rumil pulled his horse to a stop, turning to look at Taelen, who tried to disguise his heartache with a smile, but he was never good at hiding his emotions.

“I am having a hard time saying goodbye, I guess.”

“That’s all?”

“I am unsure of my path and my abilities. Rivendell may bring answers, but my heart is reluctant to leave the Golden Wood.”

“I have heard many similar sentiments from those who journey outside of our realm.” Rumil looked at him with kindness. “But know you are always welcome to come home if Rivendell doesn’t hold the answers you are looking for. Besides, if you do not come back, who will I have to boss around any more?”

Taelen thanked him with a smile and the two of them pushed their horses forward to catch up to Orophin, whom Taelen knew had ridden ahead to give them space.

The weight in his chest did not leave, though he tried to smile every time he caught Rumil watching him. The sun had started setting when they neared the Nimrodel-- where they planned to stop for the night. Often Taelen had dreamt of sitting on the edge of its bank, drinking its cold water and listening for the voice of Nimrodel to rise from its source.

“I’ll race you to the water,” Rumil said, his horse whinnying when he pulled on the reins.

“That is a contest you know you will not win,” Taelen laughed.

They took off, and Rumil stayed with Taelen’s pace for a furlong, but the latter’s horse soon outpaced the other. Taelen reached the water’s edge in less than two minutes, but when he turned around to gloat, Rumil was gone. There was no sound of his horse, nor Orophin’s. Taelen couldn’t hear the river at his feet; the world had gone silent.

“Rumil! Orophin!” His voice only carried a few feet, and he shook his head in confusion.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow move. He grinned for a second, thinking Rumil was trying to sneak up on him, but when he turned to confront the surprise, it was not Rumil, but a black mass thicker than smoke. As soon as he looked at it, it flew right at him. He yelped as it knocked him backward off his horse, scrambling to grab his sword from its sheath. The black mass flew at him again, once more knocking him onto his back, this time into the Nimrodel behind him. The water washed over him but was not flowing strong enough to push him downstream.

He shook his head, gasping for air and trying to see through the water in his eyes. The black mass was right above him now, and he watched in horror when out of the darkness a pale hand with terrible black claws formed. A cold laugh sounded as the hand reared back, readying its claws for a final strike. Taelen cried out, trying to push himself away, but slipping on the smooth rocks of the river bed. As the hand slashed downward, he closed his eyes and raised his arms to protect himself, expecting pain to tear through his flesh, but it never came. When he opened his eyes, instead of the hand above him, there was a wall of water. The black mass had disappeared, leaving no trace of it behind.

“Taelen!” Rumil came riding into view, Orophin right behind him.

Taelen dropped his arms, and the wall of water collapsed as well.

“Did you see where it went?” Taelen stood, shivering, though the air wasn’t cold. Rumil and Orophin shook their heads,

“Where what went?” Orophin asked.

“The black smoke and pale hand, it was going to strike me, but I raised my arms, and when I did the water protected me.”

The two blond elves looked at each other and back at Taelen, fear on their faces.

“We did not see any black smoke or pale hand,” Rumil said, “But we saw the water when we found you.”

“After we lost sight of you, it was like the path stretched on and on, and suddenly there you were,” Orophin dismounted and started helping Taelen take off his travel tunic, which the later was having a hard time getting over his head, “Let’s get you out of your wet clothes and by a warm fire.”

Rumil began to build a fire while Taelen stripped to his base layer, and Orophin laid out their dinner. They ate in silence till Taelen finally spoke,

“I have to return to Caras Galadhen. I must speak of this to Galadriel and Celeborn.”

“But we can take the message back, you must continue to Rivendell,” said Rumil.

Taelen shook his head, “No, I have to go back. I have to speak to her about it myself,” He looked up from his hands and across the fire at his friend, “I’ve finally discovered what my other Valar powers are, I can’t leave my mentor now. And if I try to leave the Golden Wood, whatever evil I just encountered will attack again.”

It was decided: in the morning they would return to the center of Lothlorien. While this should have put Taelen’s heart at ease, he found sleep evaded him. He wanted to rest, but the image of the hand, rearing back to strike him, kept coming back.

“How did you do it?”

Taelen was startled by Rumil’s sudden question. His friend was taking the first watch, sitting dutifully by the campfire.

“How did I do what?”

“How did you move the water? It is the kind of thing you have been trying to do for years.”

Taelen sat up, rubbing the back of his head, “I’m not sure, but I was frightened, and it is not as though I had often found myself lying in the middle of a river, trying to protect myself. I am not sure how this would have manifested before.”

“Do you think you will be able to do it again?”

Taelen didn’t answer right away. He stared into the fire, watching the flames dance together. Closing his hands into fists, he reached out into the world with his mind, just as Galadriel instructed him to do so often. He searched for the connection he longed to create. It had happened so quickly with his mother, he barely needed to look, but he had never found the link to his father. Now though, he knew where to go. He searched the streams around them, the river he had fallen into, and the mountain lakes which sourced its flow. And there, there in each body of water, was the light he wanted. He touched it with his mind and felt calm joy fill his soul.

“Yes,” He looked over at Rumil, “I will be able to do it again.”


	8. Rian

The morning after Frodo's eventful arrival, various other travelers arrived in Imladris, including a group of dwarves and the Steward of Gondor's Son. A council had been arranged for the next day to discuss the recent events and introduce the four Valar children. Rian dreaded attending, but after learning Aragorn would be there, she didn't think it would be as terrible.

He had accompanied the Hobbits from Bree, and after the morning meal, she found him relaxing in a quiet corner of Lord Elrond's home.

"Why did you come with the Hobbits? Wasn't Gandalf supposed to meet Frodo in Bree?" she asked.

"Gandalf left instructions with me to watch for Frodo and Sam, and when he did not return to accompany them, I took it upon myself. Are you upset to see me, Fëanáro?" He smirked and closed the book he was thumbing through.

"Not at all, just surprised." She paused, pursing her lips. "Do you mind if I talk with you a moment?"

"I am at your disposal."

"How long have you known who I am?"

Aragorn raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but Rian cut him off,

"I know you know, Gandalf told me all of the Dunedain know. But have you always known?"

"I have," he said, frowning. "Gandalf told me before he brought you on our first journey. He also told me it was important you remained unaware."

"Did he tell you why?"

"He said it would keep you safer and help you grow stronger."

Rian harrumphed and folded her arms as she leaned against one of the smooth stone pillars that circled the room. Gandalf had said the same thing to her when she asked him why, but feeling unsatisfied with the answer, she had hoped to hear something different from Aragorn.

"I believe he was inferring that Melkor, or servants of, would find you faster if you knew."

"I do not understand why I would have been found faster if I knew."

"You do not think you would have wanted to use your powers if you had known?"

"Of course I would have, but I would not have done so without caution. And besides, I still do not know what my powers are. How am I supposed to help defeat Melkor if I cannot do more than swing my sword?"

"Do not underestimate the power of swinging your sword," Aragorn laughed. "But I am surprised you have not figured out what your powers are."

"Surprised! You assumed it would be easy?"

"Rian, we have been calling you Fëanáro since you were a child. Have you never wondered why?"

"What do you mean?" Rian stopped trying to find out what the word meant when the Rangers would laugh at her asking and tell her to ask Gandalf.

"Spirit of Fire: Fëanáro."

"Fire?" The word stung Rian's tongue, and she remembered flames licking the wooden beams in her first home. She never wondered how she escaped the burning house with no burns. Her mind had focused on how her "family," though none of them got hurt, passed her off to a strict elderly couple on the other side of Bree.

Rian shook her head, her cheeks hot. She did not know Gandalf had told anyone of what happened that day, let alone it was because of Rian's Valar powers and not just an accident caused by a frightened child. She looked down at her hands, balling them into fists.

"There was only that one time, and everyone wrote it off as me misbehaving. I never thought to question what happened that day, nor did Gandalf ever talk about it."

"Are you upset he never told you?" Aragorn looked at her, his eyes sad.

"I am," she said. "Though I might not have been if it were not for meeting the other Valar children and learning how different their experience has been to mine."

Rian thought of Arien, whom Elrohir and Elladan doted on, and Elrond treated as his daughter – and Taelen, who had Galadriel watching over him so closely as he developed his powers. Even Hanna had been learning how to use her abilities since she was a child, and Radagast had thoughtfully placed her with a loving foster family before she was forced to join him in Mirkwood.

"I'm sorry you were not guided in the same way as your kin, but I hope you can see the value in your upbringing. You know many things that those who have never journeyed outside of Imladris or the wood of Lorien could know – or have experienced." Aragorn gestured to the books around him. "The things they know about the world were learned in books and stories, but you are well-traveled and have seen more than they can imagine. "

"I know you are right, but that does not change the fact that all of them can use their Valar abilities, and I cannot."

It was not worth arguing anymore; Rian did not want someone to tell her to stop being angry at Gandalf. She was sure the wizard had not been the guardian her parents would have wanted for her.

Talking with Aragorn had not helped her mood as she had hoped, and Rian ended up sitting on the ledge of a large window in her room that overlooked a manicured walking path surrounded by tall pine trees. She contemplated jumping into the bows of the tallest one and hiding from anyone who came looking for her (particularly Taelen, who she had planned to meet later to see what they could figure out about her powers). It would be an immature thing to do, she knew, but it didn't stop her from at least considering it.

The week since Thuringwethil's attack had passed by almost too quickly. Rian didn't feel any more confident in her role as a child of the Valar than she did before, and the odds of that changing any time soon weren't high from her perspective. She thought this, and her already sunken heart felt close to plummeting down past her stomach to her feet. Though, she might prefer having her heart near her feet where she could kick it away and stop the hurt.

How could Gandalf do this to her? She didn't understand – it was unusual for him to make such a bad judgment call.

Before she could settle into the never-ending puzzle of why this and why that, movement at the base of the pine trees caught her attention. Arien rounded the corner of the walking path, walking side by side with a tall blond elf Rian did not recognize. He was paying very rapt attention to Arien, who chatted gaily as she gestured about something with her hands. They came down the path, right in front of Rian's window, and she heard Arien say,

"The four of us will be at the council, though most of the discussion with revolve around the other attendees. I am interested to know Ada's reaction to your news."

"I will be particularly interested in hearing Lord Elrond give more insight into your story though. It must be more exciting than my tale of Gollum and my kin's failure."

"I doubt he will touch on it for more than a moment," Arien replied coyly, "So if you want to know more, you might have to spend some time in the Library."

"If you are there, then I am sure it would be time well spent."

The couple exchanged a smile before passing out of Rian's view. And Rian didn't know if she was going to throw up or not, but the feeling went away for a moment when she saw Elrohir coming down the path after Arien and Legolas. He didn't exactly look like he was spying on the pair, but Rian could tell he was frustrated. She wanted to laugh but also felt bad. She had seen Elrohir walking with Arien many times in the last week but rarely was she as animated as she had been with the blond elf. But then she was back to feeling sick again. And by the time Rian met up with Taelen, she had determined the day was going to remain miserable.

She found Taelen in their chosen meeting place: a mostly empty room down the hall from Taelen's quarters.

"Rian! Are you ready to see if we can figure out what – "

"Fire."

Taelen furrowed his brow.

"Sorry, what?"

"I think I can control fire."

"Oh, when – "

"I don't want to talk about it."

Taelen didn't respond immediately, his mouth hanging open in an endearing way.

"You don't have to teach me if you don't want to."

Rian wasn't sure why she said that. Her stomach was in knots, and she knew if she unclenched her fists, her hands would start to shake.

"Of course I still want to help you!" Taelen smiled, but his smile faded after a moment. "Are you alright? You have turned very pale."

Rian didn't object when he pulled a chair out for her and sat quickly. Her head spun, and she saw black dots cross her vision. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back.

"Can I help you?" Taelen said, holding out his hand. Rian looked at it, confused by the gesture. "It is easier if I can touch your bare skin."

She reached out to him, still unsure, but allowed him to hold her hand in both of his. Taelen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Rian felt the weight on her chest lift, and the static in her mind cleared. If she wasn't sitting, she might have collapsed out of relief.

"How did you do that?" She exhaled the words with the last ounce of tension in her shoulders.

Taelen grinned.

"Would you believe me if I said I have magic powers?"

Rian rolled her eyes,

"I meant how – how did you access your powers to do it."

"Ah, yes, I can talk about that!" He pulled a chair over so he could sit in front of her, "The way Galadriel explained my abilities was that in all of Middle Earth, everything around us follows different rules and commands. The Valar commanded Arda into existence, and each one commanded different parts of Arda: Ulmo commanded the waters, Manwe commanded the skies, Mandos – the spirits of the dead, and so on.

"Each Vala had their abilities bestowed upon them by Illuvitar – the one. Each of us was blessed with Valar abilities at birth. When we came to Middle Earth, there was no indication of specific powers, nor specific parentage. Why our guardians are not sure, but they were instructed to take us and raise us to defeat evil's rise at the turn of the century – "

"Taelen," Rian interrupted. "I already know all of this. Gandalf explained it when we journeyed to Rivendell. And I cannot see how it helps explain how to use my abilities."

"I apologize," Taelen blushed. "Not often have I had the opportunity to talk about our heritage, and it seems I rather like talking about it."

"I want to talk about it, just maybe some other time?"

"Of course! Now – powers." He took both her hands in his. "I want you to push your hands against mine." He closed her hands into fists and put his palms flat against them. Rian did as he said, surprised when his hands didn't move in the slightest as she pushed. Either he was stronger than he looked, or she was growing soft at an alarming rate since coming to Rivendell.

"Our minds have to push past ourselves and find the energy in the world around us we can manipulate." He moved one of his hands abruptly, and Rian fell forward, not realizing how hard she had been pushing.

"So, how do I push past myself?"

"Focus and practice. You said you can manipulate fire? Then let's start with something small."

Taelen looked around, then stood and retrieved a candlestick with a half-used candle from a shelf by the window. He placed it on the table in front of Rian and stood back a few feet.

"Focus your mind of the wick of that candle. Reach out to it, and-" He paused, searching for the right words. "Command it to light."

Rian looked at the wick for a second in disbelief but pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth and thought about how it physically felt to press against Taelen's hands and tried to make her mind do the same thing.

"Are you focusing?"

Rian flicked her gaze to Taelen, and then back to the wick. It was, sadly, still unlit.

"Maybe try standing?" Taelen folded his arms, tapping a finger on his chin.

Rian sighed, scraping her chair loudly across the stone floor as she stood. She closed her eyes and ran her tongue across her teeth, then focusing again on the candle's unlit wick. A minute passed, and she squinted her eyes, grinding her teeth. She didn't feel anything — no connection to the wick, no idea how to light it.

"This is pointless," she groaned, knowing she was acting about ten years younger than her age— but in her defense, she should have been training with Gandalf ten years ago.

"Well, we've only been trying for about five minutes."

"How long did it take you to get it?"

"Healing came very naturally, but it took me years to get to the point where I could do what I did to help you earlier. And I didn't even learn about my water controlling ability until two years ago. When I'd done it once, though, it was easy to train."

"So, when you got it once, it broke a waterfall of ability, to be dramatic…"

Taelen laughed at her analogy. "Yes, you could say that."

"Okay, I'll try again."

  
  
  
  



	9. Arien

“Arien, are you listening?”

Arien blinked, shaking her head. The Hobbit Bilbo stood on a stool at the center of the Fire Hall, reciting his poem he’d finished that morning. Typically she enjoyed his renditions of the old tales and listened with fervor, but her thoughts were heavy this evening.

“I apologize, I was lost in thought,” she told Elrohir, who sat beside her in his usual place.

“Would you like to retire early?” Elrohir asked.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Rest might help calm my mind.”

Elrohir offered his arm to her, but she insisted he enjoy the rest of the evening with the guests and friends. Normally she wouldn’t have minded the company, but she did not want him to know she was merely excusing herself to go to the library again. She wanted to go over a few passages she found earlier when making notes about the Silmarils. The jewels of power created by Fëanor in the first age had not been seen on Middle Earth since the “War of the Jewels” – as the history books called it. Yet, they appeared in her vision of Melkor and Thuringwethil. Though she had only ever seen artistic renditions of the jewels and their radiance, she had known immediately what they were.

However, she didn’t get the chance to retrieve the books whose passages she sought. When she entered the Library, Rian, Taelen, and Hanna were waiting for her.

“Elladan told me we would find you here before long,” Taelen explained before Arien could ask how they knew she would be there. “He said you had that look on your face that only books could satiate.”

“He knows me too well. But why the need to find me in secret? Why could you not approach me after dinner?”

“We needed to talk without Gandalf or Lord Elrond hearing,” Hanna said, motioning for Arien to sit by her.

“What could we talk about that they – “

“We need to leave tonight,” Rian cut her off, her jaw set and arms folded across her chest.

“Why? The council is tomorrow, and we’ll finally hear from the scouts as to Thuringwethil’s movement.”

“Rian overheard the scouts reporting to their captain this morning,” Taelen said, distress expressed freely on his face, “They said they followed news of the Demon to the entrance of Dol Goldur, but none could enter after her. There was a strange mist that shrouded the surrounding area as well, and a cold fear entered their hearts. They did not dare spend much time investigating.”

“And because of this, the council is pointless for us,” Rian said, shaking her head, “We need to leave now, not in a few months or weeks. Even days may be too late.”

“Too late?” Arien asked.

“Your vision – you saw Thuringwethil bring back Melkor. If she’s gone to Dol Goldur, then that’s what she’s doing now.”

“But I saw her bring him back with the power of a Silmaril, and as far as we know, none of the Silmaril’s have been recovered.”

“How do we know she does not have one?” Taelen asked, “It’s not likely she would have shown us, or the Elves following her.”

“Besides,” Hanna added, “if she doesn’t have one, then we need to stop her before she gets one. I would rather deal with her than with Melkor.”

Arien hesitated before responding. If Thuringwethil had indeed entered Dol Goldur, Melkor might intend to use it as his new strong hold. Angband, his dark fortress of old, was destroyed in the first age and sunk to the bottom of the sea – Dol Goldur made for a logical replacement. Sauron had labored there for many years, twisting darkness around him and binding evil to the stonework so that no elf could enter without harm.

The Silmarils, which she had been studying in her spare moments, would bring a different kind of power to Dol Goldur. Arien had no idea whether they would be able to tell if Thuringwethil recovered a Silmaril, but she doubted any were found. A Silmaril-touting Demon was not about to go unnoticed. At least, she hoped.

But to leave Rivendell – the idea did not sit well. Perhaps she was afraid of leaving home suddenly, but she thought it more because of the uncertainty of their journey. They might know where Thuringwethil’s location, but how would they stand a chance when they faced her? They did not know the scope of her abilities.

“I think we should wait,” she said, closing her eyes a moment. “We would be unprepared to face her, and it would be foolish to do so in Dol Goldur. Our hope lies in finding the Silmarils before she does.”

The other three were silent a moment, exchanging frustrated looks.

“Should we not still leave as soon as possible, then? To find the Silmarils?” Rian asked.

“Yes, but I do not believe that has to be done in secret, or with no preparation.”

“Gandalf and Lord Elrond would try to stop us. They’re too preoccupied with their council and the ring Frodo brought with him.”

“If they would try to stop us, why would we defy them? Have they not been appointed as guardians and guides for us here on Middle Earth?” Arien looked away from Rian to Taelen and Hanna. Taelen gave her a sympathetic shrug, but Hanna held up a hand.

“That doesn’t mean they were perfect,” she said, her statement little more than a whisper as she looked at Rian.

Arien looked at Rian as well, and for the first time, could see past her face. Her countenance was grey, and her heart was hurting.

“What did Gandalf do?” Arien moved to touch Rian’s arm, but the latter pulled away harshly.

“We can’t get into that right now,” Rian growled, “But know that sometimes we need to make decisions for ourselves. We can’t rely on the aid of our guardians forever.”

Taelen spoke. “You know I agree with you, Rian.” A thoughtful expression on his face as he looked around the table. “But what Arien said also has me thinking. We might need to change our plan.”

“Taelen.” Rian glowered at him. “You said you would support – “

“I did, and I do support us leaving tonight, but I hadn’t thought about the possibility of finding the Silmarils before Thuringwethil.”

“I’m embarrassed to admit I had not thought of that either,” added Hanna.

“I have read about the Silmarils before, but I started studying them after the attack at the Southern border,” Arien stood and grabbed a few books and scrolls from the shelves around them and placing them on the table, “I think I can pinpoint an approximate location for each, but when I say approximate, I mean it. The stories are not exact, and some are conflicting.”

“But we have a starting point?” Taelen sat forward, grabbing one of the books and opening to the page Arien had bookmarked.

“Sorry, but you might have to fill me in,” Rian sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I know that the Silmarils are jewels, but why do we not know where they are?”

Arien had to stop herself short of clapping her hands in excitement as she directed Rian to the painting behind her. The image was of three fair jewels, surrounded by light, and placed on a crown of silver bands.

“There has been speculation across the ages since the Silmarils disappeared, but I searched through them and have written down the consistencies, which pinpoint three locations: the sky, the earth, and the sea. One we know for sure was taken by Eärendil to Valinor and set by the Valar as a star in the sky. The other two were stolen back by two of Feanor’s sons – Maedhros and Maglor. The stones burned their hands, and in agony one brother tossed himself and the stone into a fiery pit, and the other tossed his treasure into the sea.”

“A fiery pit? The sea?” Rian frowned. “And one is a star? This all seems impossible. We wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Rian is right, that is not what I would say a pinpointed location,” Hanna chimed in, looking skeptical as well.

Arien shook her head.

“That’s why I was coming to the library. I spent most of the afternoon pouring over various maps, and I think I can figure out where we should search. I am confident that if we ride north to the Ice Bay of Forochel, we will find the one tossed into the fire.

“I re-read some of my notes on the Silmarils from several years ago. Maehdros was not seen after he and Maglor recovered the Silmarils,

“Who is Maehdros?” Hanna asked.

“One of the sons of Fëanor --”

“Who is Fëanor?” Hanna asked again. Arien could see the concentration on Hanna’s face and opened her mouth to answer but Taelen cut her off.

“He was and Elf who did a thing, go on Arien.”

“Right. Maehdros was not seen after entering Utumno – Melkor’s fortress in Angband, therefore he must have tossed himself into a fiery pit in that horrible place. The sea eventually drowned Angband, but the Ice Bay of Forochel should be right on top of where the ruins of Utumno lay.” 

“Then we should go north.” Rian crossed her arms, looking around at them like she was ready to shoot down whoever would challenge her..

“Yes,” Arien told her, “but I am not sure where we would go next.”

“How long will it take you to figure out where the other Silmarils should be?” Taelen asked.

“I’m not a practiced cartographer, but if I had a few days I could finish compiling my notes and calculations.”

“A few days is too late. We need to leave now – “ Rian started.

Taelen waved his hand. “Arien, can you take whatever materials you need to finish calculations while we travel?” He pulled a map out of the pile of scrolls and unfurled it across the table.

“ I can do the rest as we go. I can tell you now that we will need to head north first.”

“Then it’s settled, we leave before dawn,” Rian stood, looking lighter than when Arien had first entered the library. “I will meet you all at the stables.”

Arien watched her leave, and turned to Taelen and Hanna when the door had been shut.

“Is there a reason I should not be questioning Rian about why she holds so much distaste for Gandalf? I am confused as to why she is anxious to leave without him knowing, and without consulting him.”

 “I would leave it be, she has been tight-lipped about it since I started helping her figure out her powers, but she opened up to Hanna about it a bit,” Taelen said.

“Her powers? But Gandalf was the one designated to instruct her, why would she need your help?”

“I am afraid the wizard might not have been the guardian you found in Lord Elrond,” Hanna said. “Rian has been relying on Taelen to begin using her powers. Gandalf kept them hidden from her, her whole life. She was passed around from family to family in Bree before she ended up traveling and training in combat with the Dunedain.”

Arien leaned back, placing a hand over her chest.

“Did Rian tell you why he did this?”

“No, even she doesn’t know. She is worried he did not believe she could control her powers, but I know there must be more to it.”

“We might never find out.” Arien stood, gathering the books and scrolls from the table. “But I will also do all I can to help Rian. We are her companions now, and we will aid her moving forward.”

Taelen and Hanna agreed, also standing to leave, and the three of them bid each other goodnight and went to their rooms. Arien did as she said and worked late into the night, drawing careful calculations on various maps, and packing items in large saddle bags she had picked up from the stables.

Just before leaving to meet the others she sat down and folded up the maps and tied together a few books and a stack of her research notes. She was about to pack her ink and a few quills when she felt a tug at her heart and decided to compose a short letter to Elrond to leave in his study to explain why they left and thanking him for everything. She hoped she would see Elrond again, but she knew nothing past the need to stop Melkor.

Arien did not know if it was right to hope to return to Rivendell someday. She walked slowly to the stables after placing the letter on Elrond’s desk in his study, and not just because the saddle bags she carried were heavy. Each footstep was laden with memory and longing for one more day in her beautiful home. There were many things she would have done, many goodbyes she would have said, if she had known the day before that she would be leaving.

“Arien, what are you doing?”

Arien had been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard Elrohir approaching. She looked frantically for anywhere she could hide the saddle bags but it was too late.

“I’m just returning these to the stables. You are out and about early!” She knew her voice was too high to convince Elrohir the second she spoke.

“I am on my way to see Ada about the Council this afternoon; he asked me and Elladan to attend.” He glanced at the saddle bags. “I thought you were supposed to attend as well.”

“Ah, yes.” Arien pushed past him and continued down the hallway. “I will see you there then!”

“Will you?” Elrohir rushed after her. “Because it seems like you are leaving.”

“I do not know what you are talking about –“

“Arien, you have never dressed in that travel tunic, you never wear your swords or bow unless you’re going out to the practice fields, and I can tell those saddle bags are full.”

Arien stopped and looked at him, closing her eyes a moment. Of all the people who she was afraid would try to stop her from leaving, Elrohir was at the top of the list. Even more than she was afraid of Elrond, she feared Elrohir’s desire to have her stay in Rivendell.

“The four of us are going to recover the Silmaril’s. We are leaving before Ada and Gandalf have the chance to object, so if you tell me I cannot go, or that you’re going to alert them now, then I am warning you Elrohir – “

“Let me come with you – “

“You have not felt the full extent – you want to come with me?” Arien nearly dropped the saddle bags. That was not the first reaction she had expected from him.

“I know you are going to do what you and the others have to, but I’ve told you before Ari, I never wish to be parted from you,” Elrohir reached out and touched Arien’s shoulder, the contact stopping her in her tracks.

“Elrohir, please – “

“I can help you, I have ridden all over Middle Earth and fought in more battles than I can count.”

“We are facing more than just Orcs and Goblins, Elrohir.” Arien shook her head and felt tears start welling up in her eyes. “And besides, we have been over this, I have my path and you have yours. We must part ways.”

“But what if you are my destiny? What if I am part of yours?” Elrohir stepped closer to her, taking the saddle bags out of her arms and setting them on the floor. “Why can I not tread the same path as you?”

“Please, you are making this harder than it has to be.” A tear slipped down Arien’s face. Elrohir reached out and brushed it away with his thumb, cradling her head in both his hands.

“I will not go with you if that is not what you wish.” He took a deep breath. “But you must know, without you here, I shall not feel warmth from the sunlight, nor peace in the starlight.”

“Elrohir – “

But before she could tell him he was being dramatic he pressed his lips against hers, holding her face gently in his hands.

***  **Four years previously** ***

“I beat you, but I know you let me!” Arien laughed, collapsing on the ground under the single tree in the small clearing with a grin, “Now what is the surprise?”

“We come all the way out here to our star gazing spot and you don’t want to look at the stars first?” Elrohir chuckled, spreading out the blanket he carried. He sat down on it and motioned for Arien to join him.

Arien rolled her eyes.

“You know I am not very patient. Besides, we have used this spot for picnics and poem readings as well.” The clearing, hidden behind a large hedge in the garden, had a tall tree and flowers, as well as a perfect blanket sized spot for looking up at the night sky.

“Very well.” Elrohir took one of her hands in his. “Arien, you know I have always cared for you immensely, and valued your companionship above that of others.”

“You have never said so in such forward language, but I could have guessed as much,” Arien smiled at him.

“Then it will not come as a surprise that I seek to further our relationship.” He scooted closer to her, taking her other hand in his so he held them both.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I love you, Arien. You have brought light to my life since the moment you came into it, and have become my dearest companion. Your beauty is not matched by anyone else, not even the starlight we sit in. I wish to never be parted from you.”

“Elrohir, I – “

“You do not have to answer now, but if you are alright with it, I would like to ask Ada if I may be allowed to court you.”

“Elrohir.” Arien pulled a hand away and covered her mouth. She had tears in her eyes, and Elrohir smiled softly as he brushed a strand of hair off her face.

“ _ Melethnya [my love].” _ His hand cupped her face and he moved forward to kiss her, but she shook her head and pulled away.

“Elrohir, don’t, you don’t understand, I cannot be courted. I cannot love you like that.”

In an instant his face went from bliss to confusion. He pulled his hand away from her face, but kept hold of one of her hands.

“Why not? You have acted like you love me, nearly all of Imladris has seen it. And you used to tease that when you were older you would marry me, when did that change?”

“I teased that as a child, but I did not know the path that lay before me.”

“But why should that path not include me?”

“Have you ever wondered how I came into your father’s care? Have you ever wondered about my true heritage? If you knew, I am sure you would not have asked me this.”

“Then tell me so I may understand, and so I may convince you otherwise.”

Arien signed, pulling her other hand away from his. She spread both of her hands out in front of her body, palms up, and suddenly a bright light emanated from them.

“Oh!” Elrohir exclaimed, pushing himself back with a start.

Arien closed her hands around the light, then with a flourish tossed the light over underneath the tree. It illuminated the space, casting a pale blue light over the flowers at the tree’s base. Then with another flourish of her hands, the air around the tree began to move, spiraling upward. The light at its base separated into tiny spheres, swirling with the air, like hundreds of blue fireflies.

“How are you doing this?” Elrohir asked, his voice just louder than a whisper.

“I am the daughter of the Valar Manwe and Varda. I share dominion with them over the skies and the light. I was sent here to Middle Earth to prevent Melkor’s return in the third age of this world, and to serve as a guardian till the time my parents call me home.

“I cannot allow myself to get caught up in love for one person when the fate of so many rest on my dedication to my task. I am sorry, Elrohir.”

“I do not see how love and dedication to one person should take away from the whole. Your parents love each other, and their love makes their powers stronger, not weaker.”

“That is different, they were made to be together –“

“And who is to say we are not?” Elrohir tried to grab Arien’s hand again, but she pulled away and stood.

“I cannot love you as you wish, Elrohir. I – I am sorry. Truly, I am.”

And she turned and ran through the gap in the hedge.

***

 

The memory of that night -- the light from the stars mixed with the blue light she created, the breeze blowing past them to wrap around the tree, Elrohir’s loving gaze as he talked to her. It was all she could think of as Elrohir kissed her. 

She pushed away from him at last, not daring to open her eyes right away.

“Arien – “

She put the fingertips of her hand over his lips and opened her eyes, another tear sliding down her cheek. Elrohir also had tears in his eyes, but she could feel him willing himself to not let them spill.

“I am unsure when I will see you again, Elrohir. I have a long journey ahead of me, and I suspect you do as well. If we ever meet again, then… we will see what happens.”

She bent and picked up the saddle bags, careful to brush the last of her tears away while Elrohir could not see her face.

“Ari...” She almost cringed at the nickname he had used twice now – he hadn’t used it since that night four years go. “Please tell me you love me too.”

Arien wished she could sink into the floor and cease to exist.

“I love you as much and I can, Elrohir, but no more.” She turned to leave, but Elrohir caught her arm.

“I know you will be smart on your journey, but know that I am ever wishing for your safety and success.”

“As I am yours.”

They locked eyes one more time before Elrohir let go and Arien finally turned away to leave. The strength in her legs was just enough to get her out the door and to the stable before she collapsed in a pile of straw just inside the doorway. As soon as she saw no one else was there yet she broke down and sobbed. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was leaving home, because she didn’t get to say to goodbye to Elladan or Elrond or so many other friends, or because every time she had to break Elrohir’s heart, she broke hers too. 

  
  
  



	10. Rian

The four Valar children left Rivendell just before dawn, as planned. Arien was somber and kept to herself, which suited Rian who rode beside her. Behind them chatted Hanna and Taelen, the scene much different than Hanna’s journey to Imladris. When she had set out from Mirkwood, and then again from Lothlorien with Taelen, her heart had been filled with fear. It lurked now at the back of her mind, the fear that something was watching them, but she found comfort in Rian’s keen eye as the Ranger-trained  _ Valië  _ led them on through the winding trail which would take them past the eastern boundaries of Rivendell. 

Several hours passed by and Hanna began shifting in her saddle, hopeful that they would stop soon.

“Are we heading north after we near the base of the White Mountains?” Taelen called to Rian.

“Arien told me to head south, so that is what we’ll do. We’ll ride through Hollin and pass over the White Mountains to Lothlorien.”

“South?” Taelen sounded surprised. “Last night Arien said we should head north. Did you finish your calculations, Arien?”

“I was given more information,” Arien answered. “I thought Hanna would have told you.”

Hanna had been so wrapped up in listening to Taelen talk about Lothlorien in spring, she had forgotten to mention her and Arien’s brief interaction in the stables with the elf Legolas. He’d seen Arien leaving, and came to give her the information which swayed her decision.

“Legolas, whose father is Thuranduil who rules over Mirkwood, said he and the woodland guard have noticed an increase of activity in Dol Goldur.” Arien said. “They’ve seen Thuringwethil fly in and out of its gate, and have followed her as far as Lothlorien, but she always seems to disappear upon reaching the woods.”

Hanna had thought the Elf to be unique from other Elves she met in Rivendell. No one there had offered up any helpful information for the Valar children, as far and Hanna had known. And he had called her “Arien Elentari,” a title Hanna had not heard before. But if it matched the look Legolas had given Arien, Hanna was sure it was romantic.

“But why are we going back to Lothlorien?” Taelen asked, his brow furrowed.

His question meant more to Hanna than Arien and Rian. Lothlorien was Taelen’s home, and the last thing he wanted was to draw Thuringwethil or Melkor to the Golden Woods.

“As I said before,” Arien began, “one of the Silmarils was tossed in the sea, and one into a fiery pit.” Arien waved a hand in the air and the fog around them shaped itself into a map of the sea and the rivers which flowed to it from all over Middle Earth.

“The Silmaril tossed into the sea was proving hard to locate, but I believe I might have an answer, confirmed by the information Legolas gave. He told me Thuringwethil has been haunting the borders of Lothlorien after you left, Taelen. She must be hunting a Silmaril there, and it fits with the research I have done.” The fog dissipated with another wave of Arien’s hand, returning to cloak the mossy ground on either side of the path.

Taelen laughed warily. “But how could a Silmaril tossed into the sea end up in Lothlorien?”

“I was not sure, but there have been tales since the beginning of the second age of the power in the Nimrodel. It is odd for such a small river to have power, and for it to have a guardian spirit.”

“A guardian spirit?” Hanna asked.

Taelen answered, a light appearing in his eyes. “The spirit of Nimrodel protects its waters. Her spirit was said to have been brought as a guardian by Ulmo himself. It was in that river that I discovered my connection to the waters of Middle Earth.”  

Arien nodded emphatically. “If Ulmo wanted a guardian there, then there must be something precious worth guarding.”

“What made you consider this as a possibility before Legolas confirmed it?” Taelen shook his head. “It seems impossible to guess the Silmaril would end up in the middle of Lothlorien, so far from the sea, and with no water sources from the sea as well.”

“Right – except for one report I found from Cirdan the shipwright. He wrote Elrond at the beginning of the second age. There had been a sudden change in the tide that left almost as soon as it came. Elrond told him to inform him if it happened again, but it didn’t. I checked the date of the correspondence, and it was around that time rumors of the spirit of Nimrodel began.”

The other three rode in silence, taking in this information. The trees around them gradually grew more dense, their red autumn leaves bright against the dark Misty Mountains which drew nearer with every step. But Hanna didn’t see any of the Mountain’s majesty while she mulled over Arien’s information. Hanna wasn’t sure how Arien had found a letter written to Elrond in her research, but she was not surprised. Arien seemed precisely the kind of person Hanna would expect to find rummaging through old letters in the hope of finding one sentence that answered her question.

“I suppose we head for Lothlorien then,” Rian said. “That is the shorter trip, which is good. And it is closer to Dol Goldur.”

“Did you memorize a map overnight?” Taelen looked at her with wide eyes.

“No, I memorized it when I was ten,” Rian answered him without turning around.

——

They traveled like this for a week, rocky pathways leading them through hills and sparse forests. They rested a few hours each night until they reached the base of the Misty Mountains. They looked less menacing than the first time Hanna had seen them, when she and Taelen passed over on their journey to Rivendell. It was different to approach the looming peaks with the thought of going to find Thuringwethil, instead of her stalking them. Still, a haunting chill settled in her chest as they neared the end of the road and reached the start of the pass over the mountains.  

“I think we should hurry,” she said to Taelen, who rode beside her. His eyes didn’t move from the trees around them.

“You feel it too?”

An eerie howl cut through the air and Hanna’s horse reared up on her hind legs, letting out a loud whinny and flaring her nostrils. Hanna gripped the sides of her horse with her knees, and she barely managed to stay in the saddle as her horse settled down. But before she could take a deep breath, a second howl sounded and as her horse reared a second time, she slipped.  The action around her-- Taelen jumping off his horse, Rian and Arien galloping toward her-- happened as if in slow motion while Hanna turned as she fell, reaching out her hands to the ground below. The rocky surface turned to soft, freshly tilled earth, cushioning her fall. Time sped forward and she heard Taelen shouting to the others before he was at her side. He touched the soft patch of dirt around her and blinked twice before taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. 

Hanna looked over his shoulder and saw what was causing the feeling of unease: a black wolf as tall as a horse and wider than a bear, with hollow eyes and teeth as long as daggers, threw back its head and let out a guttural howl unlike any she had ever heard. Rian stood confidently in front of it, her sword drawn, with Arien on her horse a few paces off, an arrow notched in her bow. 

“That was not there a few seconds ago,” Hanna whispered to Taelen, frozen where she stood. He slowly shook his head, drawing his own sword and taking a step toward Rian and Arien. 

The wolf snapped its head toward the movement, baring its teeth in a too-sentient grin. Hanna didn’t have time to draw her own weapon before the wolf sprang toward the two of them, maneuvering past Rian’s sword with the grace of a much lighter creature. 

“Look out!” Arien yelled as she shot her arrow, burying it in the wolf’s shoulder, but it was not hindered, and landed heavily in front of Taelen and Hanna, snarling. 

Taelen swung his sword deftly at the wolf but missed by an inch as it ducked the blade. Before Hanna knew what she was doing, she pushed Taelen to the side, raising an arm as the wolf lunged at her. The ground shook as a wall of rock rose, following the movement of Hanna’s arm The wolf crashed into it hard, letting out a growl as it stepped back, blinking its eyes. 

Hanna turned and started running back toward the trees.

“Come on!” She yelled when Taelen didn’t follow her immediately. But suddenly Arien screamed and Hanna was suddenly slammed into the ground. Her head was ringing as she felt the wolf’s cold breath on her neck, but moments later the pressure on her back was gone. She turned her head, and darkness clouded her vision. She thought she had passed out, but when the darkness cleared, she saw Rian’s sword hanging where the beasts neck would have been-- the wolf had disappeared into a cloud of black smoke.

“Hanna!” Taelen knelt beside her, gently holding her head between his hands. She winced as she tried to sit up, and he shook his head. “Stay still, let me check to see if you have broken anything.”

“The wolf! Where did it go?” Arien asked, riding up with her bow still in her hand.

Rian sheathed her sword. “It disappeared in a black mist seconds after my blade cut it. I have never seen anything like it.”

“Neither have I,” Hanna said, surprised her voice came out steady despite the pain as Taelen checked her for injuries. “I have faced many dark creatures in Mirkwood, but never have I seen a wolf so abnormally large, nor a creature disappear in a puff of smoke.”

“It must be a servant of Melkor. Perhaps it is of the void and cannot be touched by a blade?” Arien bit her lip, pulling out a small book and a piece of charcoal. “I have read about the wolves that served him. The one that bit off Beren’s arm while he bore a Silmaril to Beriland is described as a monstrous beast, larger than any other, with teeth sharper than a sword.” 

Hanna watched as Arien sketched an image of the wolf and stowed the small book in a saddle bag once more. A tingling sensation along her spine distracted Hanna from asking Arien more about her theory. Her pain eased and she watched as Taelen opened his eyes and took his hands off her shoulders. She held her breath as she looked into his blue eyes, which were suddenly brighter than usual. The tingling stopped when Taelen took a deep breath and removed his hands. His eyes returned to normal, and Hanna wondered if her eyes were brighter when she used her powers.

“We need to keep moving.” Rian knelt on one knee next to them.

“You should be alright to ride again,” Taelen said to Hanna, taking her hand and helping her up. “Nothing was broken, you just fell hard. I’ve healed the bruising.”

“I could have used you on many a journey.” Rian shook her head. “The Rangers might be decent healers, but their ability pales when compared to that of a Valar, I suppose.”

Taelen blushed. “It was nothing.”

The four of them moved quickly back to the road, mounting their horses and starting cautiously up the mountain pass. The afternoon passed uneventfully. Slowly, they picked their way up the rocky path, over the spine of the mountain, and down the other side. They had nearly reached open ground when the same chill as before hit Hanna’s chest, and she gasped when she saw the dark shape of the giant wolf against the trees only five yards away. The wolf let out a snarl, and bounded forward, heading straight for Arien. In one skilled movement, Arien leapt off her horse, drew one of her swords, and slashed the side of the wolf as it lunged at her. The beast did not react as the cut spilled black smoke, but barked aggressively and paced back and forth in front of Arien who stood looking at the sword in her hand with a worried expression. 

“Why did it--”

“Arien!” Rian cried, jumping off her horse as the wolf reared back on its hind legs and howled. She got there seconds before the wolf jumped at Arien, its teeth bared. Rian reached for her sword but, realized it was still in its sheath on her horse’s saddle. She yelled wordlessly as the wolf closed in on them, holding up her hands to shield Arien from the beast’s attack. But the beast dissolved as it touched Rian’s hands, the inky black smoke billowing around her and Arien.

“Did you do that?” Arien asked, trembling.

“I -- I do not know.”

“You have never done that before?”

Rian shook her head, and Hanna watched with curiosity as the Ranger studied her palms, which were emitting a faint yellow light.

“We need to keep moving.” Rian’s voice was quiet. “If we hurry we can reach the edge of Lothlorien before nightfall.”

“But is it going to keep following us?” Hanna asked, shivering. 

Taelen shook his head. “Even if it did, Rian can apparently handle it alone.”

“That was too easy,” Arien said, mounting her horse again and pulling out her sketchbook again. “I do not think it will follow us any more - it got the information it needs.”

“Information?” Hanna asked.

“It saw all of us in action.” Rian’s voice was still quiet, but she had also mounted her horse and her face had a bit more color. “Let’s go.”

No one spoke as they rode, though Hanna longed to ask Rian more questions about her manifestation of power, but she remained quiet as they passed into the forest of Lothlorien. Taelen led them to their stopping point beneath a canopy of large trees. These were not the fabled Mallorn trees Hanna longed to study, but a lesser strain. Still, Hanna revelled in the forest’s beauty. Rich green grass grew around the trees, and young moss patterned their pale bark. Everything felt soft, and Hanna took a deep breath as she settled under her blanket for some rest. 

Fear threatened her peace, fear of this ghost-wolf, but she placed her palms on the ground and focused on the roots of the trees around them, counting each strand under the earth. Slowly she drifted to sleep, the forest canopy protecting her, the ground her support.

 


	11. Rian

The deeper paths of Lothlorien were new to Rian, who had only ever skirted the edges of the forest when traveling with Gandalf. The trees around them as they rode were taller than any she had seen before, with gold and silver leaves and bark smooth to the touch. Starlight seemed suspended between the giant bows, illuminating the forest floor in a soft grey light. She had been astonished by the beauty of Rivendell, but nothing Taelen could have told her would prepare her for the home of Lady Galadriel.

The scenery provided Rian a convenient reprieve from conversation with the others. While listening to the soft footfalls of their horses overlaid with sounds from the woods around them, she thought about their goal and their faraway home in Valinor. A new longing for that home, sat in her heart the moment they entered the Golden Woods-- a desire to know the home in Valinor she could not remember. Here now near Caras Galadhon, the center of Elvendom on Middle Earth, she felt closer to the majesty of Valinor. She hoped to keep that feeling as long as possible.

As they broke through the trees into a clearing marked as the entrance to the Elven city, a cheery voice called out.

“Taelen! I was not sure when you would arrive!”

Rian turned her attention away from the breathtaking view, and she noticed a blond Elf standing at the base of one of the large tree dwellings who wore the same grey and green travel garb as Taelen. This Elf hurried toward them, and Taelen hopped off his horse just in time to get lifted off his feet in the biggest display of emotion Rian had seen from an Elf.

“Rumil! I did not think you would be here!” Taelen laughed, returning the hug from his friend.

“They sent word you were returning two days ago, and Orophin and I got special permission to return!”

Rian could not help but grin at the display of friendship. She felt a pang of jealousy but did not let her outward appearance show it.

“My ladies,” Rumil turned to the three still on their horses, “It is an honor to have you here in the Golden Wood. Our Lady of Light has asked me to bring you to her tâlan if you are not too weary from your journey.”

“We would be honored to join her as soon as possible,” Arien said, climbing down from her horse.

Rumil watched Arien with a soft expression as she walked past him toward the small stables, letting out a near audible breath before catching himself and leading the rest of the group to follow her. Rian restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She saw many Elves react to Arien in this way while in Rivendell, but it didn't get any less annoying. 

When they had settled their horses in, Rumil showed them a hidden walking path, and confidently led them through the labyrinth of silver tree trunks and under the endless canopy of gold leaves.

“Did you have any trouble near the border?” Rumil asked as they walked, his question directed at Taelen.

“No orcs or anything of that sort,” Taelen responded almost too quickly, glancing at Rian, who walked beside him, “Have you seen anything odd at the Southern Border?”

“Yes,” Rumil’s countenance changed. “A foul presence has tried to enter the woods. It leaves if we get too close, but it makes my heart run cold.”

The four Valar exchanged looks, and Arien asked,

“Have you been able to see it? Where exactly is it trying to go?”

“We are not sure but –“

The approach of another Elf at the base of a winding staircase stopped Rumil’s answer short.

“Lady Galadriel has been expecting you,” the Elf said, looking over the small group, “I shall show you to her. You may stay here and wait for them, Rumil.”

Rumil nodded, giving a brief smile to Taelen as he stepped back to let the four Valar follow the Elf up. The staircase wound around the smooth trunk of a large Malorn tree. Intricate patterns were carved into the trunk, each line flowing into the next. Up and up they climbed till a platform opened, and a roof of woven branches sat over their heads. Lady Galadriel stood from her chair at the far edge, walking toward them with a reserved smile on her ethereal face. Rian again felt closer to Valinor, and she longed to ask Galadriel to describe it.

_ “You need but ask, Fëanáro, and the beauty of Valinor shall be known to you again.” _

A clear voice spoke to Rian in her mind. She showed no outward sign of hearing this, Aragorn had told her stories as a child of the Lady of Light whose voice could enter your thoughts and give you peace and mystery all at once. But she still did not like the someone else being in her mind.

“My Lady,” Arien stepped forward, bowing her head, “we are grateful to find shelter in your city.”

“It is I who am grateful to have the four of you here.” Galadriel extended her hand to Arien and looked past her to the rest of them, her demeanor changing as she looked at Taelen. “Long have I desired to see you all together. Tonight you may relax: the troubles during your journey are known to me. Rest, and we shall meet in the morning.”

She instructed the Elf who accompanied them to have Rumil take them to their tâlan but asked Taelen to stay a moment. Rian followed the others down the winding stair but paused long enough to see Taelen break down in tears, falling into a nearby chair. The sight shocked Rian – Taelen had not shown any emotion like this. His tears flowed freely in the private moment with his guardian, who stroked his red hair and whispered words of care. For all the good Taelen did to calm his companions and heal them of their afflictions – physical and emotional – he had not been able to give himself comfort.

Rian wondered how much suffering they were all doing in private. She was envious Taelen could find his source of comfort here.

Rumil and another Elf showed them to their tâlans, where Rian found her saddlebags already unpacked, and her one pair of clean clothes - a nicer shirt and leggings she was saving - was laid out on the bed. Arien had made it clear they should all make an appearance at the feast being held in their honor, though Rian wanted nothing more than to lay herself out on the bed beside her clothes and sleep till dawn. But instead, she dutifully washed off the weeks of travel in the hot bath, dressed in her clean clothes, and ran her fingers through her hair before leaving to find the others.

Arien stood not far from the group of tâlans, her long hair clean and shiny, falling in soft curls down her back. She was wearing a dark blue dress Rian had not seen before.

“Do you always travel with a spare dress?” Rian asked, rubbing the toe of one of her mud-covered boots on the grass.

“I have never traveled before,” Arien blushed, “I did not know what to bring.”

“I suppose anything you can fit, as long as you have enough food?” Rian looked around, hoping Taelen or Hanna would suddenly appear.

“Taelen and Hanna already left, I stayed to walk with you,” Arien motioned to a path ahead.

“Ah, well, thank you.”

Arien smiled at her, and they started walking down the path toward the center of Caras Galadhon. Rian walked with her hands in her pockets, her head tilted, so her hair hung forward to cover her face. Walking beside Arien under the Malorn trees was harder than riding together through mountain paths.

“It would have been nice to rest a moment more,” Arien sighed, breaking the silence. Rian nodded, unsure what to say in response, but to her relief, Arien kept talking. “The attack by the fëa-wolf scared me more than I would like to admit. I wish I could be as unfazed as you.”

Rian nearly stopped in her tracks. “I assure you, I am not unfazed.”

“No? You seemed so calm afterward. Are you not alright?”

“I--” Rian almost said she was fine, but stopped herself from lying. Lying wasn’t going to help her. “I have always hid my emotions. I-- I did not want to be viewed as weak amongst the Dunedain.”

“Your emotions do not make you weak,” Arien looked at her sympathetically, “But I understand it is not easy amongst a group of men, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Rian wasn’t sure what else to say, so she stuck her hands further in her pockets and tried not to look at Arien anymore.

They came across the feasting party before too much longer. Taelen and Hanna sat in the middle, and Rumil and an Elf who bore a family resemblance to him sat with them, eating from large platters of food.

“I could not have guessed the joy I would have to be home again,” Taelen told them when they sat, “Nor the joy at having you see my beloved Lorien.”

“It is nice, I suppose,” Rian shrugged, trying not to smirk.

“I saw the way your eyes shone when we rode through the trees,” Hanna said, handing her a plate, “Do not pretend you are unaffected by the beauty the Elves have cultivated here.”

Rian made a face and proceeded piling food on her plate. Trail rations were alright, she was used to eating them for a month at a time, but the Elven food looked infinitely better. An hour later, however, Rian longed for a hearty bowl of stew from The Prancing Pony. The Elvish food tasted good, but she seemed to have eaten half the table and still did not feel full.

Throughout the dinner, Arien, Taelen, and Hanna chatted gaily around her, and various Elves approached their table to receive an introduction from Taelen. Taelen knew everyone, as far as Rian could tell. He knew their name, their family, and some infliction or another he had helped them with years ago.

“You seem to be a crowd favorite,” Rian said to him over the top of her glass of wine.

“It was my duty to care for everyone here, in one way or another,” Taelen shrugged and waved his hand casually, “I wanted to learn how to use my healing abilities for more than wounds or illness - healing the heart is more fulfilling.”

Rian nodded and took a large gulp of wine. Music had started to grow from the corner of the glen, where a group of Elves sat with various instruments. She could understand only a few of the phrases they sang but wasn’t sure if it was her beverage or their language that made it difficult to interpret their words.

“Come and dance!” Taelen said, pulling Hanna to her feet and motioning for Arien and Rian to join them.

Rian grimaced, but Arien laughed and rose to follow them. The three of them moved lightly over the grassy forest floor, the music flowing around them and the Elves who joined. Rian watched on, appreciating their momentary joy, but thinking about other things. It had been a few days since she and Taelen had practiced her fire control, and she didn’t know if there was a safe place to do so here in the middle of the forest.

“Are you not enjoying yourself, my lady?” A tall Elf came and sat by her, a curious expression on his face.

“I am having a pleasant enough time,” Rian said flatly, not looking at him.

“Do you not enjoy dancing?”

“I prefer to watch.”

“May I watch with you?”

“Are you not already doing that?” Rian raised an eyebrow, still watching him only through her peripherals. The Elf sat but did not respond for a minute, then cleared his throat once and said,

“I worked closely with Taelen for several years, it is exciting for us to see him here now with his kin,” He said. “As expected, you have even those of us who live near Lady Galadriel in awe of your beauty and power.”

“We appreciate the kindness everyone has shown.” Rian wasn’t sure what the Elf’s purpose in sitting next to her was, but her palms had begun to sweat against the glass she held in her lap.

“I am not sure you remember, but we met once before when you were very young. I am Haldir, Captain of the Guard.”

Rian looked at him fully for the first time. It had been many years since Rian had seen him, but he looked much the same. He was a handsome Elf, though most were, with a high brow and grey eyes. He wore what she assumed was his Captain of the Guard regalia on top of clean travel clothes. As she studied his face, she remembered vaguely a night spent around a campfire.

“How long has it been?” She asked, laughing as some of her discomfort faded. “I do not think I have seen you since our journey to the Blue Mountains.”

“Indeed, it has been many years. You have grown, Fëanáro.”  

“All but my hair,” Rian shook her head a little to emphasize the short length.

“Yes, I can see that.” Haldir smiled, “If I remember correctly, you did not like doing your hair, and you refused to wear dresses. It seems like you still reflect the same mindset.”

Rian looked down at her leggings and blushed, “And If I’m being honest, I have never regretted that until today.”

Haldir frowned.

“Why today?”

“Have you seen the others?” Rian gestured to Arien, Hanna, and Taelen.

“What about them?”

“They are all so…” Rian searched for the right word but couldn’t bring her thoughts into one.

“Rian, you do not need a dress or long hair to be beautiful and fearsome,” Haldir said.

Rian bit her lip and asked, “Where did we meet the first time? We journeyed together more than once, so you will have to excuse my lapse in memory.” She asked.

“You were very young, I believe it was one of your first trips out of Bree,” Haldir turned a piece of grass over in his fingers, “I believe you and Gandalf were traveling to Rohan and you stopped near the border of Lothlorien. We camped with you that night. You had long hair then, and wore the clothes of a ranger - though they didn’t quite fit you.”

“I do remember that,” Rian chuckled, “It was the first time I met an Elf.”

“You refused to speak with us, and pretended to sleep while we talked with Gandalf.”

“I was embarrassed - you were all lovely, and I felt ragged. You were different than the Rangers, or the usual crowd in Bree.”

“Well, if lack of beauty is reason for embarrassment, then I must excuse myself from your presence,” Haldir laughed.

Rian rolled her eyes, “Please no more compliments, they make me feel like you are talking to someone else.”

“I can only speak the truth, but I shall refrain from making you uncomfortable.” Haldir laughed again, and Rian blushed.

She was saved from further response by a sudden cheer from the dancing Elves. Arien had stepped up onto a platform, the musicians gathering around her. She opened her mouth and began to sing. It was a song Rian knew very well, Aragorn had taught it to her when she was a child. It was the song of the Star-Queen.

_ “A Elbereth Gilthoniel, _

_ silivren penna miriel _

_ o menel aglar elenath, _

_ na-chaered palan diriel _

_ o galadhremmin ennorath _

_ nef aear, sí aearon, _

_ Fanuilos, le linnathon _

_ Nef aear, sí aearon!” _

As Arien sang she closed her eyes and lifted her hands. Small glimmers of light appeared around the glen, bobbing up and down in time with the music. The tempo picked up, and the lights began to float through the crowd and up the side of surrounding trees. The glen was illuminated, the brightness akin to the midday sun as the music swelled to its final climax. Rian had to raise a hand to shield her eyes, but then the light was gone, all of it summoned back to Arien, who lowered her glowing palms with the last word of the song.

 The crowd made no sound, all of them holding a collective breath before Taelen stood, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Thank you, my friends, for such a wonderful celebration tonight,” he addressed the crowd with his glass raised, “We do not know how long we shall stay, but I toast now to the beauty of Lothlorien. May the Valar always bless it.”

The Elves lifted their own glasses, and when Taelen sat they began to talk amongst each other again. Hanna and Taelen spoke with Arien for a moment before the three of them joined Rian and Haldir on the edge of the glen.

“We should retire for the night,” Hanna said, “I think we should investigate the Nimrodel tomorrow.”

“I agree,” said Rian, a moment too late - she was still thinking of Arien’s performance.

The three left Rian to bid goodnight to Haldir, who asked if he could walk her to her tâlan.

“I have never seen such a wonderful display of power,” He said as they walked.

“It was magnificent,” Rian said, her voice monotone.

“Can you do the same thing?”

“No,” She shook her head, “But we all have different… abilities.”

“Interesting,” Haldir looked at Rian pointedly, but she ignored him, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

“It was good to see you again, Haldir,” she said when they reached her tâlan.

“The pleasure has been mine,” he bowed his head, “I look forward to helping you and your kin in any way I can during your stay.”

Rian thanked him and went inside, sighing heavily as she shut the door. How many years had it taken Arien and the others to master their abilities? And how long would it take her?

  
  
  



	12. Taelen

“You are doing amazing!” Taelen clapped his hands as Rian extinguished the flame in her palm. “Try it once more, and we can be done.”

He watched with his  tongue between his teeth as Rian ignited the straw in her hand and crushed it into a small ball of flame. She extended her arm, holding the ball in front of her, and moved her other hand in a circular motion. The ball followed the movement, circling slowly around her hand before it landed once more on her palm, and she closed her fingers around it, the flames disappearing as Rian sighed.

“Incredible,” Taelen grinned. “You have come along so fast!”

“Fast?” Rian glared at him as she wiped her forehead with her sleeve. “I have never been this slow to master anything in my life.”

“You mastered using your sword in two weeks?” Taelen laughed, taking the burnt straw ball from her hand and throwing it into the trash bin with the others. “Swordplay took me years to master. I hated practicing.”

Rian shrugged. “I have never felt tired while wielding my sword, but creating and controlling fire seems to pull all of my energy away.”

“Creating it is draining.” Taelen sat on the ground and offered Rian a piece of bread from his pack, which she took without any hesitation. “I still feel the same way when I create water. That is why I told you to keep some matches on you if you want to use fire in a battle. Creation saps your energy fastest.”

“Then why are we fussing with creating it?” Rian asked through a mouthful of bread.

“Because you have to learn the basics. You will be surprised how easy just plain manipulation is after a few more weeks.”

“I do not have a few more weeks,” Rian grumbled as she lay down on the ground and crossed her ankles. “We are leaving to investigate the Nimrodel today.”

“Right, but you would not want to use your fire anyway. We will be too close to water.”

Rian sighed and closed her eyes again. She had been frustrated about something all morning, which Taelen knew was making it harder to exercise control, but she had refused to talk about it when he asked. He wondered if it was still her manifestation of power against the wolf, or if something happened at the gathering last night, but he didn’t get another chance to ask before Arien and Hanna hurried into the clearing.

“A scout just arrived--” Hanna said in one run-on breath, but Arien cut her off.

“A dark creature has entered Lothlorien on the Westside.”

“We should leave then. That is where the Nimrodel enters the forest.” Taelen stood, offering a hand to Rian, who didn’t take it but stood on her own and crossed her arms.

“I think we should proceed with caution,” she said. “We do not know what would await us if we were to pursue it.”

Hanna shook her head. “But it is probably Thuringwethil--”

“All the more reason for caution!” Rian grabbed her pack from the ground. “She is most likely setting a trap for us, or trying to get us to retrieve the Silmaril for her.”

Hanna placed a hand on one of the trees that shaded them, stroking the silver bark with her thumb. “But if she starts attacking the forest -- I have seen her destroy older trees than these with ease.”

“She can destroy trees?” The surprise in Arien’s voice startled Taelen.

“Why do you think I was so hesitant to come here?” Taelen asked. “I knew she would follow us, and this is part of the reason Hanna fled Mirkwood, and I fled Lothlorien.”

“I have read every account I could find on Thuringwethil, and none of them mentioned trees.”

“You never asked me what my account was,” Hanna snapped.

“Oh.” Arien raised her eyebrows and blushed heavily. “I had not realized you would have more information.”

Taelen shook his head, he had thought Hanna had talked to Arien, she had told him she’d spoken with Rian about her childhood run-in with Thuringwethil, and her battle with her in Mirkwood. Regardless, he wasn’t about to sit around and wait for Thuringwethil to hurt his home.

“You,” he looked at Rian and Arien, “Are both welcome to stay here, but I must protect Lothlorien. Thuringwethil will not best me this time.” He said the last part more to himself and Hanna, who looked at him with concern.

“You are not going without us!” Arien looked at him aghast.

“Then it sounds like we had better go with them.” Rian grabbed her pack and headed to the stables, strapping her sword around her hips.

Within minutes they were mounted on their horses and flying at full-gallop out of Caras Galadhon. They rode hard for an hour. Taelen ignored the riding path, leading them through the trees. He knew if they did not get there in time, whatever the creature was after might be forfeit.

“Just a little further!” He yelled to the others. They were close to the clearing where the Nimrodel met the Celebrant.

As they rode into the clearing, he realized there was another outcome he had not prepared for. Rian drew her sword, but Taelen shook his head. There was no dark creature in sight, but several Elves lay on wet soil near the river's edge, their weapons still in their hands.

“We are too late,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes. He had known all three of them, though not well. But he had felt the sorrow of others losing loved ones. It was a pain that never fully healed.

Taelen mechanically dismounted his horse and ran to the motionless bodies. His hands froze as he reached to check their injuries: each Elf had several deep gashes in their bodies, and the skin around them grey and flaking, like dead bark peeling away from an infected tree trunk.

“Thuringwethil,” Hanna said through gritted teeth, coming up beside Taelen.

Arien joined them, taking out her sketchbook. “You have seen this before?”

“Is now the time for that?” Hanna snapped at her, looking at the book in her hands.

Arien stopped, holding up a hand in defense. “I am just--”

“Their families will be wondering where they are,” Taelen spoke over Arien’s protest, pushing past her to remount his horse. “They will want to know why they died.”

“They died with fear in their eyes.”

A chill accompanied the whispered sentence. Fog began to creep into the clearing, as it had every time Thuringwethil had appeared. Taelen felt sick -- Rian had been right. Thuringwethil must have stayed around after killing these Elves to see if the Valar children would show up, and Taelen had led them into her trap.

“My Master has been unimpressed with your abilities, thus far.” The demon-woman floated out from the trees, black smoke swirling around her feet. She smiled sickeningly, baring her pointed white teeth at the four of them. “But I shall not complain. It makes my job easier.”

Rian rushed past Taelen with her sword drawn, whispering to him, “Search for the Silmaril” before swinging her sword at Thuringwethil’s throat in a fluid movement.

The demon summoned a thin black blade from the black tendrils at her feet and pinned Rian’s sword with it. Rian didn’t hesitate, taking a hand off the hilt of her sword and punching Thuringwethil in the mouth. Thuringwethil moved away from Rian so fast the Ranger almost lost her balance as her sword was no longer held down by the black blade. The demon touched the corner of her mouth, chuckling, but her expression hardened as Hanna and Arien both dismounted.

“You have courage, Ranger.” Thuringwethil flicked her gaze back to Rian. “But you lack the abilities of your father.”

Taelen wanted to keep watching as Rian swung her sword again with a shout, but he knew he needed to act while Thuringwethil was distracted.

He stepped into the cold stream, his body relaxing as the water seeped through his pants and touched his skin. The soft current pushed around him, begging him to sit down. He did kneel, putting his hands above the water with his fingers splayed. Closing his eyes, he submerged his hands and his mind, riding with the current as it rushed downstream, and searching every hole and under every rock but couldn’t find the Silmaril. He then turned his attention upstream, and a sheen of sweat started to collect on his brow as he fought against the current.

“TAELEN!”

Hanna’s scream broke his concentration. His eyes flew open in time to see Arien leap into the river in front of him to deflect a dark ball of smoke with a wave of her hand. Thuringwethil flew at her, but Arien jumped much higher than Taelen would have expected, flipped over the back of Thuringwethil and landed on the soft soil of the river’s bank.

“Hurry,” Arien told him, not out of breath in the least. But Thuringwethil threw several more balls of her poisonous smoke at her, and Arien rolled out of the way. The shots hit the trees behind her, their bark immediately greying where it was touched, peeling away from the trunk in chunks.

All Taelen could see was red, and he ran at Thuringwethil, raising his arms over his head. He yelled, and a wave of water rose out of the river and crashed hard into Thuringwethil, who tumbled to the ground just past Arien, the cloud of black smoke at her feet washed back into the river.

“So you can fight!” Thuringwethil laughed, standing with ease. “Last time we met, you were quite easy to subdue.”

She flicked her wrist and summoned her dark blade again. Taelen rolled his eyes and made a pulling motion with one hand. A tendril of water rushed from the river and wrapped itself around the demon sword before pulling it into the current.

“You attacked me while I was sleeping, and I am not a morning person,”he said sarcastically, moving two fingers in a circle to make another water tendril wrap itself around Thuringwethil. “Everyone knows that.”

The water pulled the demon into the river, who hissed and squirmed, breaking free with great effort. She dashed to Taelen, her hand raised, but Hanna, who had run over, was faster and summoned a rock wall the same way she had done to protect Taelen from the wolf outside of Lothlorien. Thuringwethil stopped short of hitting it, directing her attention toward Hanna.

“Do you only have one trick?” she sneered, throwing two balls of black smoke at Hanna, who dodged each and pulled out a dagger.

Hanna threw the dagger with startling accuracy, hitting Thuringwethil square in the chest with a soft thud. Thuringwethil gasped, touching the shining blade as she sank to her knees. Arien stood over the demon, creating a swirling circle of air to keep Thuringwethil on her knees.

Taelen didn’t wait another moment, moving back into the river and plunging his hands into the water once more. He exerted all his energy, pushing against the current, when the amount of effort it took changed. A light appeared in the bed of the river  two leagues down stream. It was the Silmaril, it had to be! It reached out to him, filling the river with power that surged through the water and into his body. He felt light and heavy at the same time and he almost laughed - Arien has been right after all - but before the sound could pass his lips he heard Thuringwethil’s shrill scream reach past the air holding her to the ground. 

Panic pulsed through Taelen. How long could Arien hold Thuringwethil? 

“Taelen.” He felt Hanna enter the water beside him and through the water he connected to her fëa. The blue of the running water turned to black. She was scared, and all he wanted to do was make that go away. “Have you found it?”

Taelen nodded his head, not opening his eyes, trying to keep the Silmaril in his sight.

“Can you bring it here? And take it further into the forest? You could hide it from Thuringwethil in Caras Galadhon - she will not go that close to Galadriel.”

Taelen did as she suggested, opening and closing his fingers in the water. The Silmaril shifted, sliding from its hole into the current. It came to him, and the closer it got the more power flowed through him. It only needed to come within his finger tips and he would rush into the forest, securing the Silmaril and its light away from Thuringwethil.

When it touched his hand he had the urge to laugh again. He opened his eyes, his inner vision overcome with light. The stone in his hand was exquisite, shining with light purer than a star.

A cold whisper reached him, crawling over his skin and freezing his feet in the river. 

“That’s mine.” 

Taelen didn’t have time to move before he was struck with a blast of air. He gasped and the Silmaril fell from his hands back into the river with a loud  _ plop _ .

“No!” Arien yelled as a shrill shriek rang in the small grove, and Thuringwethil pushed herself out of the air barrier Arien had created. She held Hanna’s dagger in her hand, a black, sticky substance dripping from it and her chest. 

Hanna took a grounded stance, facing Thuringwethil, and Rian ran into the river, water sloshing around her as she knelt to search for the Silmaril.

“Stop,” Thuringwethil hissed, “It’s mine.” She threw the dripping dagger at Rian’s back and Taelen watched in horror as Rian did not move, and the dagger hit its mark with a heavy thud. 

Rian didn’t even react. She just kept searching.

Thuringwethil glowered, and she threw a ball of black energy at Taelen, but he dodged, falling into the river. He felt around frantically for the Silmaril following Rian’s example, barely moving out of the way in time to avoid Thuringwethil cutting him with her black blade before she dived underneath the surface. 

“No, I - I have to find it,” Taelen cried in panic, closing his eyes and trying to connect with the river again. But it was too late. His heart stopped as Thuringwethil emerged, the Silmaril floating in a cloud of black above her hands.

“You have  _ failed _ ,” she laughed with a sinister grin.

“Not yet.” 

Taelen held his breath as he watched Arien stand, her hand outstretched. The Silmaril immediately flew out of Thuringwethil’s hold, landing in Arien’s hand. 

If Taelen had thought the light was bright when held the Silmaril, he was not prepared for how bright the light was the second it touched Arien. He put an arm up to shield his eyes, and Thuringwethil screamed - but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the light or the fact that the Silmaril was once more in the hands of a Valar.      

  
  
  



	13. Arien

Power from the Silmaril flowed into Arien the moment the cold stone touched her hand. It felt familiar-- warm, even. She took a deep breath and light gathered around her, a bright contrast to the darkness creeping toward Thuringwethil on the bank of the river.

“Give up.” Arien’s voice permeated the air with command. Her hair and clothes began to twist around her as a cold wind circled the glen. She took a step forward, pulling the Silmaril close to her chest and waved her free hand. The wind started to howl, pushing through the upper branches of the trees surrounding them.

“Or you will do what, young Valar?” Thuringwethil spit Valar with vehemence as she smirked at Arien. “The walls of Rivendell are not here to protect you from me any longer.”

“I am weary of you underestimating us.” Arien narrowed her eyes and stretched her free hand toward Thuringwethil in one sharp movement. Silver sparks crackled at Arien’s fingertips and before Thuringwethil could move a bolt of lightning erupted from her palm, brighter than any she’d made before. It hit the demon square in the chest where Hanna’s dagger had sunk minutes before, and she fell to the ground screaming.

“Tell me where Melkor is,” Arien shouted over the roar of the wind, closing her hand and extinguishing the lightning bolt. “Tell me, and I might spare your life.”

“I would rather die,” Thuringwethil hissed, raising herself up onto her hands and knees with great effort.

Arien could see the effects of her lightning bolt on the demon's face through Thuringwethil's disheveled hair. Her white skin was charred on her jaw and cheeks, looking almost the same as the injuries dealt to the dead Elven soldiers they’d found in the clearing. Arien tasted bile in her mouth.

“Let me kill her.” Hanna’s steely tone made Arien flinch.

Arien shook her head and turned to face her. “No. We need her to tell us where Melkor is.”

Hanna glared. “She is not going to talk. She wants nothing but death and destruction. We have to stop her now or --”

“All we have to do is negotiate, surely we can reason--”

Arien could not finish her sentence before utter and complete darkness surrounded her. The air was suddenly silent, and the light from the Silmaril could not be seen, though she gripped it tightly in her hand. She tried to create a floating light orb, like she had so often done, but nothing happened-- no spark of light, no visibility into the chilling black in front of her.

“Hanna?” She cried, tripping over the ground as she moved toward where she thought Hanna stood. The air pushed against her and she felt like she was walking through water. “Rian! Taelen!”

“Where is your light now?” Thuringwethil’s voice sounded in her ear, too close for comfort.

Arien pulled her sword out, still keeping the Silmaril close to her chest, praying to Varda all the while that light would manifest itself. Several times she tried to leap into the air, for maybe the end of the darkness was right overhead, but could not for the weight it bore down on her. Why could she not dispel the darkness?

Behind her, Arien heard a shout and a scuffle. She turned and screamed as a searing pain spread across the surface of her chest. Thuringwethil screeched in triumph as Arien dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she pictured her torn skin greying after the demons attack. The Silmaril slipped out of her fingers as the pain mounted, disappearing into the black void. She reached around on the ground and could not feel the Silmaril, but she could feel the wounds on her chest bleed heavily as wet warmth seeped through her shirt.

“No!” Rian’s voice was near, but Arien still could not see her. She heard the swing of a sword through the thick air, and then the darkness was gone. In front of Arien was a pale, white hand, with scorched fingertips and no arm attached at the wrist. Rian stood over it, her sword covered in dark blood. Arien started to speak, but her breath caught, and she looked down at her chest.

Five deep gashes ran from one shoulder and down through her breasts. But as Arien cried out in pain, white light started to pour out of the wounds. The light threaded each gash, and the wounds began to close, leaving no scab, no scar. Arien’s knees gave out and she fell to the ground, pulling her hands away from her chest.

“Taelen?” She gasped, trying to remain calm. “Is this you?”

She looked around, but Taelen was holding Hanna on the other side of the glen, staring at Arien in awe.

“Rian, what did you do?” Arien turned back to Rian, who still stood with her sword in front of her.

“Nothing-- I, I just cut off her hand after she took the Silmaril.” Rian knelt to clean her sword, and Arien could see her hands shake. “I think she turned into a bat and flew away with it.”

“You could see through the darkness?” Arien asked, not taking her eyes away from her nearly healed chest despite her surprise at what Rian said. The fabric of her tunic was still torn, its edges charred as she would have expected her skin to be.

Rian stopped fiddling with her sword and looked at Arien. “I assumed you could too, until Thuringwethil came at you and you did not react till it was too late.”

“I do not understand,” Arien winced, touching the tears on her dress. “How could you see through it, and I could not?”

“You could see through the darkness, Rian?” Taelen asked softly, coming up behind Arien.

Rian nodded her head, closing her eyes. “I let her get the Silmaril. I was not fast enough.”

Arien reached a hand toward her. “It is not--”

“None of you could see!” Rian snapped, sheathing her sword as she stood. “If I had not fumbled with these idiotic matches, I would not have been too late.” She grabbed a small pouch hanging off her belt and threw it on the ground in front of Arien.

“Why were you carrying...” Arien grabbed the pouch and looked inside to see several broken matches and a small piece of stone.

“Can we leave?” Hanna interrupted. Tear tracks shone in the setting sun on her cheeks.

“Yes, alright.” Arien nodded and stood with some hesitation. “I hoped we could stay for a moment longer and find out what that darkness was, and possibly see if we could tell where Th-”

“That darkness should not have happened.”

“It feels like an impossibility,” Arien shrugged. She’d never read of anything like the thick black that surrounded her so instantaneously. 

“No,” Hanna scoffed, “It would not have happened if you just let me kill her.”

Hanna’s anger surprised Arien. She hadn’t thought it was her fault, but now she wasn’t so sure.

Arien took a deep breath. “Well, if you did not want to do what I thought best, then why did you ask me before killing her?”

“I think we should leave now,” Taelen said, stepping between Hanna and Arien. Arien felt a warm wave wash over her, loosening the tense muscles in her back and neck, and helping her let go of the tension building up inside her. She knew it was Taelen, and the problem wasn’t resolved, but she was grateful for the relief from the shock and argument.

“Can I have my dagger, Rian?” Hanna asked, shaking her head before glaring at Taelen, who smiled sheepishly.

The question stopped Arien’s heart- Thuringwethil had thrown the dagger at Rian!

“Rian, are you injured?” Taelen walked quickly toward her.

Rian frowned and took a step backward, away from Taelen. “What are you talking about?”

“Thuringwethil threw the dagger at your back. I thought I saw it hit you.”

“I am fine.” Rian turned to mount her horse, and they could all see that her back was dagger-free. There wasn’t even a tear where they thought the dagger had hit her.

A sob escaped Arien’s throat and she hurriedly mounted her horse to hide her tears from the others. The darkness, losing the Silmaril, a dagger that hit Rian but didn’t. Fighting an evil entity was nothing like she imagined it during all of her training sessions.

She continued to cry off and on through their ride back to Caras Galadhon, wiping her tears on her sleeve when she thought no one was watching. She could feel Hanna’s glare on her back as they rode and occasionally picked up on a few words Taelen was saying in an attempt to calm Hanna down. 

“Let her be angry,” Rian said after they’d been riding for an hour or so.

“Why?” Arien sniffed, willing her nose not to run while Rian was talking to her.

“She has wanted to kill Thuringwethil since she saw her parents dead bodies at the demon’s feet.”

“I did not know Thuringwethil killed her parents.” Arien sniffed again, feeling the tears well up. “But we could have used Thuringwethil for more information.”

“You have never lost someone, have you?”

“I- what?”

“You have never lost someone, been alone, been hungry.” Rian was watching the path they followed, which Arien was grateful for as her face turned red.

“No, I suppose I do not understand those feelings. But that does not mean I do not care about them. If Hanna had just told me before--”

“Or if you had asked her.”

“I, yes, or if I had asked her. But how was I supposed to know Thuringwethil could create darkness that would stop me from using my powers?”

“The whole fight was disjointed.” Rian shrugged and glanced back at Taelen and Hanna. “I have fought side-by-side with the Dunedain for years. I know what a well-planned and well-executed fight looks like, and that was not one.”

Arien was grateful they rode past the entrance to Caras Galadhon before she’d had time to respond to Rian. Galadriel was waiting for them with Celeborn and several others who took their horses to the stables.

“You need rest,” Galadriel said as they stood awkwardly in front of her like criminals awaiting their sentence. “And I need only to speak with Arien.”

Arien’s gratitude lessened a little, but she was still glad to be out of Hanna’s sight. 

She followed Galadriel to a set of stairs that wound down into a sitting area lit with small white lanterns. Galadriel motioned for her to sit, and Arien practically fell into the chair as her knees gave out. She wished Taelen was there to send another wave of relief from her internal swarm of thoughts and emotions.

“It is not easily that a Vampire demon defeats the children of the Valar,” Galadriel said. Arien couldn’t tell if she was scolding her or not.

“We had the Silmaril, but she created darkness only Rian could see through--” Arien started, but Galadriel shook her head.

“I am not concerned with what Thuringwethil did, but rather what you did. Tell me what happened.”

Arien nodded her head and recounted the fight, trying not to omit any detail, though she desperately wanted to gloss over the moment she and Hanna were arguing before Thuringwethil got away.

“And what questions do you have after all of this?” Galadriel asked at the end. She had not changed her expression through the whole explanation.

Arien looked away, willing herself not to cry again. Should she ask about the darkness? Hanna’s dagger? Or the light which healed her chest?

“Why were we not all raised together?” The question spilled out the moment she thought it, and her cheeks burned from embarrassment

Galadriel’s expression did not change. “Why were all four of you not raised together?”

“Yes,” Arien nodded, “Why were we not all given the same training, the same upbringing. We all act as individuals - we need to act as one.”

“I am sure Lord Elrond has told you--”

“He told me it was to protect us from Melkor, yes, and I did not question because I did not know I should.” She stood, taking a deep breath. “None of us trust the others as we should. Rian does not know how to use her powers, and I am supposed to lead this group but do not know what to do.”

“And you would question the wisdom of your guardian?”

Arien turned away from Galadriel. Tears were streaming down her face again. She didn’t understand why she could not calm her mind.

“It is not bad to question,” Galadriel said, her tone gentle. She moved to stand next to Arien and placed a hand on her shoulder. “These worries may have lain dormant for some time amongst the four of you; it is good to express them. The battle with Thuringwethil did not go as you hoped, but there will be another. All is not lost.”

“But she took the Silmaril -”

“There is more than one Silmaril.” Galadriel looked at Arien pointedly. “She will return.”

Arien felt a strange push in her chest and looked down, expecting to see the same light which healed her near the Nimrodel. She knew there was more than one Silmaril. She had always known that. Why did it now feel like her chest was burning when she thought of it?

“When she does, trust in the others,” Galadriel continued, “and they will trust in you in time. You must not let the desire to lead blind your decisions.”

“Do you mean I should have let Hanna kill her?”

Galadriel shook her head. “You cannot change what has happened, Elentari. You must learn and move forward.”

Arien felt like a child again, listening to Elrond scold her after using her abilities thoughtlessly in Rivendell. It didn’t feel good then, and it didn’t feel any better now. By why, after all these years of training and careful research, did Arien feel hopelessness?

The feeling stayed with her as she left Galadriel to rest in her Talan. But rest did not come, and she found herself walking on one of the many unfamiliar paths of Caras Galadhon that wrapped around the bases of its mighty Malorn trees. She did not care where she was going, just that she stayed away from the questioning gazes of Lothlorien Elves. Faint lights floated around her, and she conjured a few more every so often just to remind herself she could.

“Lady Arien?” 

Arien turned around in surprise, the orbs of light rotating around her.

“Legolas!” She smiled and clasped her hands together. “I would not have thought to look for you here!”

“Indeed, I had little hope our paths would cross at this time.” He returned her smile and bowed his head. “This happy circumstance is a breath of relief after the journey we have had to get here.”

“We?” 

“I am one of the nine companions of the Ring, though you left Rivendell before that was decided. Lord Elrond was not particularly happy with that.”

Arien blushed and let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Yes, ah, I assumed he would not be.” She took a deep breath - she wasn’t sure why his comment made her feel flustered; she had known her departure would be cause for concern and worry from Elrond. “Please, I would love to hear about Rivendell and your journey. Will you walk with me?”

“I should return to my companions,” Legolas frowned, “but I shall find you tomorrow, and we can exchange our hardships then.”

“It will be nice to commiserate.” Arien laughed again. It had been too long since she had laughed, and the weight in her chest eased for the first time since the day began. 

"I see you have not lost your affinity for your floating lights," Legolas said as he walked past her, reaching out to touch one of the glowing orbs. “I am always impressed by them.”

Arien smiled softly, beckoning the largest one to her hand and letting it sit before she extinguished it.

"They are not meant to impress."

"I know," said Legolas, gazing at the lights as she put them out one by one. "I'm not sure why, but they comfort me. To know there is light in these dark times gives me hope." He looked at Arien thoughtfully, and she wished she could read the sorrow in his eyes "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Elentari."


	14. Rian

Caras Galadhon was silent when Rian left her tâlan. She had hardly slept, the image of Thuringwethil’s pale hand laying in the grass always present whether or not her eyes were open. The fingertips were blackened, scorched for some unknown reason after Thuringwethil had attacked Arien. But it was the wrong hand. It had not been the hand that held the Silmaril. 

A low mist hung around Rian’s ankles as she walked with her head down toward the clearing they’d feasted in on their first night in Lothlorien. She could not see any sunlight yet but hoped dawn was near so she could get her questions answered by Galadriel. 

She mulled over the questions in her mind and would have passed the stables without a second thought, but a single suspicious light was lit inside, and she could hear hushed voices. Her curiosity peaked - why would someone be sneaking around the stables before dawn? She wasn’t proud of it, but she was excellent at eavesdropping, and the skill with which she drew close to the open window without being detected would have made Aragorn proud.

“We need to leave now.” 

Rian’s eyes widened when she heard Hanna’s voice.

“We cannot leave without Rian and Arien.” 

Rian was less surprised to hear Taelen’s voice since he and Hanna typically followed each other around like a Hobbit following a food platter at a party.

“Arien will just try to stop us, and Rian will do whatever Arien says.” Rian made a face but didn’t have time to think more about it before Taelen replied.

“At least give me some time before we leave - there is no way we can find our way to the Ice Bay without a map if we do not have Rian or Arien.”

Rian didn’t care to listen to more: she needed to find Arien, much to her chagrin after hearing Hanna’s comment.

Arien was not in her tâlan, so Rian followed the path in the opposite direction from the stables. She walked with urgency now, not caring as she caught the eye of an Elf here and there. Morning was coming, and more activity was happening throughout Caras Galadhon. Her heart raced as she turned down several paths that led to nowhere and cursed the Elves for not giving the Dunedain maps of the interior of Caras Galadhon. 

“Rian!” 

She heard Haldir shout and saw him appear from behind a gaggle of Elves who were carrying several stacks of linens.

“Haldir - have you seen Arien?”

He jogged over to Rian, matching her brisk pace as she continued down the path. “She was speaking with Legolas, last I saw. But Rian, you need to know -”

“I need to find Arien, Hanna and Taelen are trying to leave -”

“Rian!”

Rian spun around, nearly knocking Haldir over and sprinted toward Arien, who mirrored her urgency.

“Rian, Gandalf fell in Moria, he -”

“Taelen and Hanna are leaving - Gandalf fell?” Rian stopped several feet in front of Arien and dropped her hands. “He’s dead?”

“I am so sorry,” Arien said softly, tears shining in her eyes. She closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around Rian in a tight hug. 

Legolas or the Elf Rian assumed was Legolas, stood close behind Arien. He spoke as Rian let Arien hug her, his voice somber.

“There was a Balrog of Morgoth - he gave himself to save us all.”

“Aragorn is here,” Arien told her, pulling out of her hug but keeping her hands on Rian’s arms. “I am sure talking with him could help.”

Rian did not respond but nodded her head as she pulled out of Arien’s gentle touch. 

“I can take you to him,” Haldir said, putting a hand on Rian’s back. 

She pulled away from him too, turning her back on Arien, and started running. She couldn’t remember which path led to her tâlan, so she took paths at random. Right left, right, right, left.

Caras Galadhon blurred around her, green and silver, and terrible and dark. Everything looked dark. Rian’s lungs burned from lack of breath, but she didn’t notice till she stopped and fell to her knees in the middle of a secluded patch of long grass. She started tearing up the blades of green, immaculate grass, wishing they would stop waving beautifully in the breeze.

“Why did you think it was okay to die!” She shouted, twisting her face in anger. “Why are you not here to tell me why using my powers is so hard? Why did you have to sacrifice yourself for others?”

She continued to shout till her throat hurt and her knees ached. A sob broke out and she allowed her tears to fall as she curled up on the forest floor, holding her head in her arms. 

Rian stayed there till she fell asleep, and when she woke she could see the midday sun shining through the Golden Mallorn leaves above her. The air was still cold, and she felt clammy as she sat up, rubbing her sleeve against her face.

“Well, you do look a mess.”

Rian jumped to her feet, the dagger she carried at her hip already unsheathed and poised to strike. The imposter was a tall Elf, taller than any she’d seen, with black hair and lavish black robes. She had never seen an Elf dress in such dark colors, and it made her hesitate before spitting out,

“Leave me alone. Take your ridicule elsewhere.”

The Elf ignored her and with a wave of his hand, conjured a black chair that he promptly sat in. Rian’s eyes widened, and she took a step back, still holding her dagger aggressively.

“I am not here to ridicule you, Rian.” He spoke again, his voice devoid of sarcasm. “I am here to help you.”

“Help me?” She snarled.

“Do you not recognize me, Fëanáro?”

He smiled a tight-lipped smile at Rian, and she slowly lowered her dagger at his use of her Ranger-given name. She gazed intently at his face: age lingered in his eyes, more age than the lifetimes of the Elves. But she supposed the observation was not necessary, seeing as Elves cannot make chairs materialize.

“Are you disappointed?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. She did not sheath her dagger.

“I do not prefer one way or the other. I suppose you would like an introduction?”

“I would like to be alone, but since it does not seem like you are planning to leave,” she gestured at him sitting casually in the chair he conjured, “would you prefer I call you Mandos or Namos?” She grimaced internally: there was no one in all the realms of Middle Earth that could make her call him father.

“Whatever suits you.”

Rian was only slightly alarmed when the smirk on his face was so clearly the same smirk she often gave Aragorn when they spared.

“Why are you here?” She asked.

“You seemed to require assistance.”

Out of everything he’d said thus far, Rian believed this the least.

“Assistance?” Rian’s voice was as sharp as the dagger in her hand, “You choose now to offer me assistance? When you have allowed the person who mattered most to me to be taken away?”

“You wish Mithrandir was still here?” He cocked his head to the side, but Rian could tell it was not in mockery. “Do you think he can answer all of your questions? Do you think he would?”

She did not answer right away. She knew to say yes would be a lie, but not even when she practiced with Taelen did she imagine it meant she would never practice with Gandalf, no matter how angry she was with him.

“Do you think you can answer my questions better than him?” She finally asked.

“I know I can.”

“Then tell me why I, of all the children of the Valar, was raised with no knowledge of who I am and why I am here.”

“There are many things you do not understand,” he closed his eyes, looking almost as pained as Rian, “I would never have chosen the life you have had if I had any better option.”

Rian didn’t want to admit it, but sincerity was falling off him in waves.

“Rian,” his voice was soft, “You have every right to be upset. No one blames you for feeling this way, especially Mithrandir. But let me help you move forward. Let me help you.”

Rian sat cross-legged on the grass and stuck her dagger in the ground in front of her. “Is Valinor beautiful?”

“It is the most beautiful place you can imagine.”

“Describe it to me.”

More than an hour passed of their odd conversation. Rian mostly listened, picturing the lush green mountains of Valinor, the looming halls of Mandos, the Silver palace of Manwe and Varda - every inch as it was described by her Father. Their conversation seemed untouched by reality, and she was sure at any moment she would wake up.

“Gandalf was right to be afraid of your powers.”

Rian was snapped out of her peaceful stupor by his statement.

“Why?” She asked, “He could face a Balrog to protect his companions. I could barely cut off Thuringwethil’s hand - and even then it was the wrong one.”

“You saved your companions when they could not see, as best you could against an opponent who had laid her trap.” He looked at her intensely. “But, I will remind you to trust in yourself. You are capable of more than you know.” He stood and the dark chair he’d conjured vanished.

“You are leaving?”

“There are many things I must do,” he reached into his black robes and pulled out a red pendant strung on a thin, black chain. “I want you to wear this. It has my blessing, and you may find it aids you to develop your powers.”

Rian took the necklace, the cold metal heavy in her hand. There was something inscribed on the black metal that held the stone to the chain, but she could not read what she assumed was an ancient text.

“Thank you.” She did not immediately put it on, eyeing the brilliant red stone. It looked almost like something moved inside it.

“Do not grieve too much for Mithrandir, Rian.” He moved almost close enough that she could reach out and touch him, but the feeling made her uneasy despite the comforting words he spoke. “His spirit is strong and shall dwell in my halls until Manwë calls him forth once more.”

Rian closed her eyes, bowing her head as she felt a single tear roll down her cheek. When she looked up he was gone. The darkness that she’d seen as she ran through Caras Galadhon was gone too, but the pain in her chest was not. She still would mourn for Gandalf.

Rian began the trek back to find Arien, assuming the latter had found Hanna and Taelen and stopped them from leaving. As she walked she fingered the necklace suspiciously, holding it up so it caught the light. Decidedly she put it on the ground and took her stance she had practiced with Taelen, moving two fingers around in a circle, creating a small flame in her hand. The flame flickered, and she wanted to groan under the effort of trying to maintain it before she gave in and extinguished it. Rian could almost hear Taelen saying “again” as she reached for the necklace. She put the chain around her neck and let the stone rest against her chest under her shirt. It had been cold when she held it in her hands, but against her chest, it was almost hot. She liked the feeling.

With a deep breath, she retook her practiced stance, circling her two fingers around her palm. Immediately a large flame - larger than any she’d made before - flared up, almost scorching her eyebrows. She stumbled backward, putting the fire out by merely closing her palm around it. She felt no strain - no exhaustion. This was how she imagined working on her powers with Gandalf would be. Easier, more natural.

She bowed her head, placing a hand over the spot where the pendant laid under her shirt and thanked her father for his gift. She also sent a prayer to Valinor, hoping somehow the message would reach Gandalf and he would know she was sorry and that she would visit him when she could return to the spirit halls of her father.

Melkor will pay for your death, Gandalf. I will send him to his grave with my own hands if I must. 

It was the first time she had thought to pray. She’d seen Aragorn do it many times but never felt the need. Now it granted her some peace that Gandalf would know she forgave him.

She’d not thought long about their argument after she left Rivendell. It wasn’t common for her to dwell on concerns she couldn’t see. But it had resurfaced when she practiced with Taelen in Lothlorien, her lack of ability to manipulate her powers causing the root of her anger toward Gandalf to resurface. Her father had said Gandalf was right to be afraid of her powers - maybe the Wizard had been right to hide them from her. And she wasn’t about to complain about the skills the Dunedain had taught her.

 

Elves skirted around her as Rian traced the path she’d taken out of the center of Caras Galadhon. She guessed they’d heard about Gandalf as well or seen her reaction first-hand. 

It wasn’t hard to find Arien. She was sitting alone under the canopy of an artfully crafted gazebo, her hands holding a wrinkled handkerchief, and several of her hairpins had fallen out of place.

“Rian!” Arien stood when she saw her, hesitating before motioning for Rian to join her. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“I am alright,” Rian patted Arien’s shoulder awkwardly, trying to relieve the apparent distress the latter felt. She did not want to share the pain of losing Gandalf with her companions any more than she had to, though she was sure Taelen would pull it out of her eventually. “Did you stop Taelen and Hanna?”

Arien shook her head and slumped back into her seat. “There was no trace of them when I made it to the stables. I can only assume they are headed to the Ice Bay in the North.”

“Then we must follow them.” 

“I am afraid I do not think it would be wise for me to leave Lothlorien at this time.”

Rian, who was poised in the path to run to her tâlan, turned to Arien in surprise. Arien’s face was flushed, and she wouldn’t make eye contact with Rian.

“What do you mean?”

“I think there is something...wrong with me.”

“Wrong with you?” Rian couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I saw you after the fight with Thuringwethil, the light healed you, and -”

“And you do not think it is unsettling to have wounds healed by a light coming out of your chest?”

“Yes, but -”

“And have you stopped to think about what other light might have that kind of power? And what I might jeopardize if I bring myself close to the enemy again?”

Rian narrowed her eyes, looking at Arien’s head closely for any kind of injury. Did she really think she held a Silmaril inside her? “I admit it had not been the first thing on my mind.” 

“I cannot leave Lothlorien. I might lose another Silmaril.”

“We all lost the Silmaril - it was not you alone that faced Thuringwethil.” Rian wanted to feel sympathy for Arien, but anger boiled up in her chest. 

“I do not want to have the mission fail because of me!”

“You can stay here, and think whatever you deem best about the light and whether or not you feel you can risk your chest getting hurt again.” Rian huffed and started walking away, “But we may fail without you there.” 

She turned to face Arien, who was leaning against one of the pillars of the gazebo. Her usual calm demeanor was replaced with despair, and her hair hung limp around her clouded face. 

“I know this is your first time being afraid of something,” Rian called to her, “but I would have thought you would stand to face it, not hide from it.”


	15. Hanna

“Please just admit we are lost,” Hanna pleaded with Taelen, halting her horse to look around. A light drizzle was turning the dirt around them to mud, and a cold fog started to set just ahead of them. 

“If I admit we are lost, then what are we going to do?” Taelen sighed, pulling his horse up beside Hanna’s. 

The map Taelen had stolen - he liked to say borrowed - from Arien’s belongings had a simple trail marked from Lothlorien to their destination in the north. Still, for one reason or another, neither Hanna nor Taelen had been able to figure out where on actual Middle Earth that trail was. 

“Should we turn back?” Hanna winced at the thought of the reception they were sure to have in Lothlorien if they returned. Rian and Arien would have every right to be furious.

Taelen groaned and slumped forward in his saddle. “We should never have left without the others.” 

The two of them sat there a moment, Hanna grimacing and Taelen lying forlornly on his horse’s neck. Taelen’s wet red hair was sticking to his face, and he lazily twirled several small water droplets around in a circle, managing to look graceful and majestic despite the dreary surroundings. Hanna didn’t think it would be quite the same if she started twirling balls of mud around.

“Should we try to find someplace dry to set up camp for the night?” She asked him, doubtful there would be any dry place, but it was worth looking if it meant there was someplace they could sleep without damp clothes or bedding.

“Could you not just make a shelter?” Taelen asked, perking up.

Hanna took a second to realize what he was talking about, but when it hit her, she felt foolish.

“Oh, I had never thought to do so. I suppose this is the first time I have been caught out in the rain.”

She thought about it another moment. She’d never been stuck in the rain in Mirkwood, and she and Taelen had not encountered any on their journey to Rivendell. They’d always slept beneath the stars with no need for cover.

Taelen rubbed his hands together gleefully and said, “If you could make a shelter, I could probably pull the water out of the covered ground and some wood so we could make a small fire!”

In agreeance, the two of them dismounted their horses and set to work. Hanna made a standing three-walled structure with a stone roof, moving her hands in the mud to strengthen its base. When she finished, Taelen stood in front of it and raised his hands: the water in the ground pulled away from the dirt in a miraculous fashion. He brought the clean water through the air to where Hanna stood, trying to get the mud off her hands and let the water run over them.

“That was a lot easier than I expected,” Hanna said, smiling and grabbing her pack off her horse.

“Perhaps we are not so pitiful at surviving in the wilderness!” Talen laughed.

Hanna looked in her pack with dismay while Taelen started drying off several fallen branches and logs.

“We’re almost out of food.”

“We are going to die out here.”

The tone Taelen used was so utterly matter-of-fact that Hanna immediately started laughing. Tears welled up in her eyes: it had been the first time she laughed since before the battle against Thuringwethil. Taelen had tried many times to have a light-hearted conversation with her after they left Caras Galadhon, but fear and worry coated nearly every thought that spawned in her mind. 

“I love your laugh,” Taelen said with a grin, stacking the dried wood in the center of their stone shelter, “it makes me think of what I always imagined Valinor would look like in Summer.”

Hanna shrugged and gave him an awkward half-smile. His compliments always made her heart beat faster, but she never knew how to react.

“Well, yours always makes me think of...uh, grass?” She wished the food had run out several days earlier and she had died before ever having the chance to speak that sentence. 

Taelen threw his head back and laughed, “I have achieved the highest compliment I can from you - I have been equated to grass!”

“You know I am not good with words!” Hanna threw a handful of dirt at his boots. “How are we going to light the fire?”

Taelen shrugged, “I gave my matches to Rian. Do you have any in your pack?”

“No, we used mine up on the journey to Rivendell, I told you that.”

Taelen looked at her with empty eyes.

“We really are going to die out here.”

“I am surprised you are not already dead.”

Rian suddenly appeared around the corner of their shelter, her pack casually hanging off one shoulder, and her horse following dutifully behind.

“Rian!” Hanna and Taelen cried in unison. They both rushed to her, knocking her pack to the ground as they flung their arms around her in a simultaneous hug.

“Ugh, have you gone soft?” Rian asked, but she didn’t push them away immediately.

“We should never have left you behind,” Taelen said, pretending to sob.

Rian let out a laugh, “Damn right, you should not have. Neither of you were there to help me convince Arien she needed to come.”

Hanna broke away from the hug, “Arien did not come with you?”

“No,” Rian shook her head, “she started going off about a Silmaril being what healed her chest and how she could not risk losing another one. It felt like I was no longer talking to our pragmatic Arien.”

The three of them moved to the stone shelter and sat down around the un-lit pile of wood. Taelen looked at Hanna in a way that made her feel guilty, and she blurted out,

“We should go back and get her!” 

Rian raised an eyebrow and leaned back against one of the stone walls. “Were you not the one who said the two of you should leave without her - and myself?”

“I, well, yes. But -”

“Yet, you now seem overjoyed to see me - and you want us to go back and convince Arien to leave Lothlorien?”

Hanna drew her knees to her chest and laid her head against it. She assumed Rian had overheard her and Taelen talking in the stables before they left, and Rian had every right to call her out on it. But Hanna still did not want to admit she was wrong.

“We, uh, we were going to come back for you both anyway,” Hanna said.

Taelen nodded his head. “Besides, we were out of food. We set up camp and were heading back in the morning.”

“It is a good thing I brought extra, then.”

Rian tossed her pack toward Taelen, and he pulled out a small loaf of bread. 

“There are two more bags as well,” Rian said with a yawn, “I figured you had not prepared adequately. How did you end up so far off from our planned trail anyway?”

“Neither of us are very good with maps, it turns out.” Taelen shrugged and then shivered, pulling his rain-soaked cloak out of his pack to dry off. “Do you have your matches on you? We use a fire tonight.”

“No, I threw them in disgust, remember?” Rian waved her hand casually. Hanna did remember her throwing them on the ground now, and joined Taelen in shivering. He stopped drying off his cloak and started on hers.

“Oh,” Hanna said, “Then I suppose we will just have to do without.”

Rian rolled her eyes and waved her hand. Flames sprung up on the logs - not just small flames that normally start a large fire, but flames that fully engulfed the wood and immediately filled their shelter with heavy warmth.

“And when did you learn how to do that?” Taelen asked, looking from the fire to Rian in shock.

Rian shrugged. “When did you forget how to read a map?”

“Fair point. How did you find us anyway?”

“You forget I have trained with the Dunedain since I could ride a horse. Your trail was not that hard to follow.”

The two of them spent the rest of the evening going over various tracking methods while Hanna pretended to listen. She eventually laid down, feigning sleep. While she was grateful Rian had found them, and they would have returned to her and Arien any way, she would have preferred to still be alone with Taelen. Rian was not an invasive person by any means, but Hanna felt Rian’s presence was overwhelming in their small shelter. She hadn’t felt that way before, though, so Hanna assumed it was her internal guilt and tried to ignore it. 

“Are you alright?” Taelen whispered to her in the middle of the night, nearly startling her off her bedroll.

“Yes, why?” She answered when she had caught her breath.

“All I can see right now is a dreary yellow when I look at you.”

“Worry is yellow?” Hanna propped herself up on one elbow, looking at Taelen’s outline in the dark. Rian was on watch and had sat on top of their shelter without argument from Taelen or Hanna. 

“You are worried? About what?”

“Do you think Arien hates me? Or Rian?”

Taelen sat up and scooted closer to Hanna. “Hate you? Absolutely not. Rian knows how much you wanted to be done with Thuringwethil - and why. And Arien does not have a mean bone in her body. She will probably just be worried about why you felt like you could not talk to her about your emotions.”

Hanna both loved and hated when Taelen understood everyone's emotions and motives. It was convenient, of course, but it also made her acutely aware of the fact that she would never be successful in hiding anything from him. 

The two of them chatted a few more minutes before Taelen started snoring mid-sentence, and Hanna convinced herself to finally fall fully asleep. Morning came soon after, Rian made sure they took down the shelter and distributed the food she brought amongst their packs. 

“How far is Lothlorien from here?” Hanna asked as she mounted her horse.

Rian mounted hers and called over her shoulder as she urged her horse forward, “We are not going back to Lothlorien.” 

“But, Arien -”

“Made it clear she did not want to join us on this part of our mission. If she wants to follow us, I am sure she can find the way north.”

Hanna looked at Taelen, but he shook his head and mouthed something is not right before following Rian out of their campsite.

They trudged through mud most of the day before coming to higher ground. Rian told them that while they had not followed the planned route - at all - they had managed to make decent progress north, but still had about two weeks of riding before they would reach the Ice Bay of Forochel. Hanna had not thought their journey would be so long, and her heart sank at the thought of not being able to resolve everything with Arien for a month. 

Several days passed like this. Plodding through mud, making a shelter at night, and waking up to do the same thing again. Rian did not speak much, and Taelen told Hanna one night after Rian had taken over the watch that he thought he was getting closer to finding out what was going on.

“She has not spoken more than a few sentences since her first night with us,” Hanna whispered, rolling over on her bedroll. “Do you think she regrets coming to find us?”

“No,” Taelen reached out into the dark and grabbed Hanna’s hand. This was certainly not the first time he had done this, but Hanna could immediately feel her hand start to sweat. Regardless, he didn’t let go. “No, I think she is grieving.”

“Grief?” 

“She is a dark, saturated blue right now - and has been other than her first few hours with us.”

Hanna sat up quickly. “Do you think Arien died, and that is why she would not let us return to get her? Do you think she is lying to keep us going?”

“No, Hanna,” Taelen sighed, “She is not lying about Arien. Rian may be closed off, but she is not so closed off that she would lie to us about our companion for the sake of a mission I am not sure she believes in.”

“She does not believe in saving Middle Earth?”

Taelen shook his head, “I am not sure she believes in the importance of the Valar.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She mentioned it once or twice in practice, and I do not think she has moved past processing that. I had hoped we would eventually meet up with Gandalf again, who I think she might listen to, but -”

“Gandalf died.”

Rian stepped into the shelter and rolled her bedroll out beside the dying fire.

“He - oh, I am so sorry, Rian.” Hanna let go of Taelen’s hand, placing both her hands over her chest.

“Do not worry about me,” Rian said, laying down and throwing her cloak over herself like a blanket before turning over to face away from the other two. “Taelen is right though, I do not understand why the Valar, I mean, even after meeting my father…”

Her voice trailed off, and Taelen moved to sit by her, giving Hanna a wide-eyed glance. He gently placed a hand on her back, and Hanna was surprised when Rian did not move away. 

“It is good to feel your grief,” Taelen said, “Gandalf meant a lot to you.”

He cocked his head toward the door, and Hanna nodded, grabbing his cloak and dagger before stepping out into the night to take her watch. Her head spun as she heard Rian’s voice in her head say “after meeting my father” again. Had one of the Valar really been on Middle Earth?

She could still hear Taelen comforting Rian, who suddenly seemed unable to complete a full sentence, but she tried to tune it out so Rian could have her privacy. There were many conversations Taelen had had with Hanna that she would not have appreciated Rian or Arien listening to.

“I have to admit I am not used to constant company,” Hanna said as she and Taelen sat under a canopy of towering Oak trees. They’d left Lothlorien two days previously, and Taelen had teased her when they stopped to eat that they had not spent much time alone since the first time they left Lothlorien together.

“Because of growing up with Radagast often gone.” Taelen finished her thought for her. 

She nodded her head and nibbled at the food in her hand.

“I do not mind, though,” she said, “I have never found it hard to be around you.”

Taelen chuckled. “Well, that is a relief, I must say. Rumil often told me I was an insufferable know-it-all.”

“You?” Hanna nearly choked. “You told me you have never read a full book in your life.”

Taelen shook his head, “Wrong kind of know-it-all. I am certainly no Arien. But rather, I always knew what others were feeling. Rumil hated when I could tell he was feeling particularly attracted to his wife.”

Hanna’s cheeks burned. Taelen had told her all about his ability to read the emotions of others and help to heal those hurting. He had often helped her feel calm without her having to explain herself, something she appreciated more than she could express. But she had never thought he would be able to tell how attracted to him she was.

“I am sure he felt positively violated,” she said indignantly, setting her unfinished lunch back in her pack before standing up and carrying it back over to her horse.

“Hanna, wait,” Taelen rushed after her, catching her bag before she could strap it back onto her saddle. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to upset you.”

Hanna stood frozen, looking at his hand on hers on her bag. She wanted to ignore it and tell him something else was bothering her - like she remembered something Arien did that made her feel insignificant like Taelen usually helped her work through - but the words got caught in her throat.

“Hanna,” Taelen said softly, taking a step closer to her. 

She wanted to reach out and brush the loose strands of hair away from his face, but she also did not want to move her hand from under his, so she just stood there staring at him with what she was sure was an unintelligent look. 

“I am sorry I never told you,” Taelen took a deep breath, “but I was worried you would not let me be close to you, and… and I so desperately want to be close to you.”

In one tender movement, Taelen took Hanna in his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead. She reached her free hand up to touch his face, unconsciously stroking his cheek. She had never been this close with someone, physically or emotionally, and she wished the moment would last forever.

Hanna felt selfish for absorbing herself in the memory of Taelen’s affection while Rian suffered the loss of Gandalf, but Hanna didn’t know how to stop herself from feeling jittery and excited about what was to come with Taelen if they made it out of this alive. When she pictured her life before she’d never imagined falling in love with anyone, though that might have been because she never met anyone to fall in love with.

“She’s asleep.” Taelen’s whisper floated to Hanna through the dark, and she turned around to see him walking toward her. “Gandalf was killed by a Balrog in Moria, she found out the morning we left Rivendell.”

“I cannot believe it. I am sure Rian is having a hard time.”

“It is certainly not easy for her, but I think she will be able to move forward alright.” Taelen hesitated before continuing. “She told me something I have a hard time understanding, though.”

Hanna felt uneasy as Taelen’s tone changed.

“What is it?”

“She said her father visited her in Lothlorien, and that he gave her peace and somehow helped her with her powers.”

Hanna looked at him sharply. “Her father, right, she mentioned that... But how? Can the Valar really travel to Middle Earth at-will?”

Taelen shrugged, taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly. “They have not since the first battle with Melkor. It is said that Ulmo was the last to travel to Middle Earth through its waters, but now the Valar watch from Valinor, removed from the doings of those here. But perhaps it was a special enough circumstance?”

“Why would he visit her alone? Why would the Valar not visit us all?” Hanna knew it sounded selfish, but it upset her that Rian had somehow earned a visit after losing Gandalf. Why had Aulë or Yavannah not visited her when Mer and Dan were killed and Hanna spent months at a time alone in Mirkwood? Why had they not visited all of them after Thuringwethil took the Silmaril? If they could visit Middle Earth why had they sent their children here to do their bidding?

“I am not sure,” Taelen said thoughtfully, “and though Rian seemed to feel peace at the memory, hearing about it made me uneasy.”

Hanna didn’t sleep well when she let Taelen convince her to have him take the rest of her watch. She had absorbed his unease, and found herself tossing and turning with images of Arien crying, Gandalf dying, and a mysterious dark figure laughing flying through her mind. She was grateful when morning came, and the monotony of riding behind Rian freed her of any conscious thought, other than that never-ending wish that Arien was with them.

 

 

.


	16. Arien

“Argh!” Arien yelled, her hair whipping across her face as she slashed through the practice dummy with both of her knives. She jumped into the air, suspended as she flipped and threw one blade into the heart of another practice dummy and the other into the center of a straw target.

Arien finished her rotation in the air, landing on the grass without a sound. She sighed and stood, tucking her wind-blown hair behind her ears as she watched Legolas walk out of the trees and onto the practice field.

“That was impressive,” he said with a grin, “but do you not think the flair could be toned down a little?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The flip? How many seconds during a battle are you going to waste with an extra-long flip that will open you up to several attacks of opportunity?”

Arien scoffed and walked over to the target to pull her knife out. “I took out two other enemies because of the elongated time-span - it allowed me to focus on their locations and I still moved faster than a normal human, despite -”

“You had several blind spots open, it would have been easy for any enemy to cut you in half.”

Arien sheathed her knives and tossed them into her pack sitting next to the base of the target.

“Did you come out here to scrutinize me, or did you have another reason?” She asked. For the past few days Arien could not stop thinking about how she feared his judgment, and every kind thing he did for her cemented the idea that he was disappointed in her decision to stay in Caras Galadhon.

“This is the first time you have ventured outside your tâlan since Rian left. I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He looked over her shoulder at the slashed practice dummy. “And I can see you are more than alright.”

“I am fine.” She huffed, picking up her pack and walking past Legolas. He spun and joined her on the path out of the field.

“It is okay to not be -”

“Look,” she said as she stopped walking, “I appreciate your care. It was considerate of you to check in on me the past few days, and I know it was you who sent the reading material from the library - thank you.” She shifted her weight from one foot to another, trying to figure out how to communicate the cacophony of emotions she felt. “It does not help, though, when I feel like you are looking at me like a lost child who needs healing before she can venture forth into the unknown once more. I made a choice to stay behind, and I stick by it - it is better for everyone.”

Arien’s heart raced as she tried to read Legolas’s reaction.  
“Please forgive me for not making my intentions more clear.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, standing rigid in the pathway. “I have not judged your decision one way or another since you explained it to me. My actions have simply been that of care - I wanted you to not feel alone.”

“Oh. That is... very kind of you,” Arien said, unsure of what to say.

She did not consider herself the ultimate judge of character, but it was not often she found her assumptions to be wrong. However, she had not suspected such an innocent reply from Legolas. Had he really not judged her for staying behind? She certainly was struggling with judging herself. Facing Hanna had felt impossible when they returned from fighting Thuringwethil, but if something went wrong as the others traveled to the next Silmaril…

“Would you like to take a walk?” Legolas asked unexpectedly. “I have something I think you should see.”

Arien nodded and walked beside him on the path. She spoke little, choosing to listen to his amusing story about the Hobbits he traveled with. He had brought several moments of welcome distraction over the past few days and this story, along with whatever he was taking her to see, was no different.

“It turned out to be one of the best meals I have eaten - in the woods, that is.” Legolas stopped in front of a staircase wrapping around the base of one of the giant Mallorn trees. “Here we are, though it is up a way I am afraid.”

“I do not mind,” Arien responded quietly. She still had her pack with her weapons strapped to her back, but it wasn’t heavy, and she knew if she went back to her tâlan, she would probably stay there.

The two of them climbed the narrow staircase to the top level of the tree, where there was a small enclosure lined with books and aged tapestries. The tapestries intrigued Arien - Elven tapestries were often well taken care of, but these looked strangely aged.

“They are from Gondolin, taken by refugees as they fled their burning city,” Legolas said as he watched her approach the largest one.

Arien held her breath as she looked at the delicate colors that wove together to depict Gondolin at its best. Golden hues, muted by age, built up the walls of the great city before its fall. Reverence filled Arien’s heart as she thought of those who gave their lives for their city in the fight against Melkor. Besieged by thousands of orcs, and a number of Balrogs, few had escaped the burning city. With them they took only what was essential. These tapestries represented the history most important to their people, the craftsmanship they valued, and Arien felt honored to behold their magnificence. Elrond had a few momentos from the fallen city as well, though nothing as grand as these.

Legolas gestured to a small tapestry in the corner as he walked over to it. “I thought this one might be particularly interesting for you to look at.”

Its edges were frayed, but the threads were otherwise intact. The image depicted was of the night sky over a crystal mountain, each star embroidered in silver that had not dimmed over time like the other threads. On the mountain top stood a couple holding hands, their gaze focused on the stars. Arien knew it was Manwë and Varda. Manwë stood tall, with long white hair and blue robes, and Varda was crowned in light, her dark hair sparkling like the night sky.

“Why would the Gondolins have saved this?” Arien asked in awe, coming to stand by Legolas.

He looked scandalized. “Manwë and Varda are held in esteem by all Elven races… you do not think they would want to preserve this?”

“I - yes, but what about family histories and -” Arien stumbled over her response, and Legolas tried to keep a straight face, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“I actually thought the same thing,” he said, “But I did some reading and discovered this tapestry was carried out of Gondolin by Eärendil. It was he that came to Valinor to -”

“Appeal to Manwë and Varda to help in the fight against Melkor! How did you discover this was Eärendil’s?”

“The library has an index of all the artifacts they have collected.” He shrugged casually and turned to grab a book sitting on the shelf behind him.

Arien swallowed hard. “You know your way around a library.”

“They are a quiet place to escape the world.”

If Arien had blacked out she wouldn’t have been surprised, but a minute passed and she was still standing staring at Legolas in the small library.

“Thank you for showing me this,” she said at last, hoping to the Valar he had not noticed.

“Of course, but it is just the beginning.”

He sat at the single table tucked into the corner of the room, motioning for Arien to join him. She sat quickly, taking the book he held and turning it over in her hands. It was very old, bound with faded black leather, but there were no markings on the outside.

“That is a book with information I am sure you have never read before.” Legolas’s face was grave.

Arien opened it and there, written in Adûnaic, was the sentence:

This is the personal history of Tárisse, daughter of Eöl, wife of Morgoth

Wife of Morgoth? Arien’s jaw dropped and she had to stop herself from throwing the book across the room.

“Why would someone write a personal history for someone who does not exist? Melkor never had a wife.”

Legolas shook his head. “I was just as shocked as you. Tárisse existed, but this is the only proof that she did. All records of her were removed from libraries at the end of the first age.”

“Then how did you find this one?” Arien asked, not bothering to look up as she skimmed the pages. “And why did you not show this to me the minute we met in Caras Galadhon?”

“Mithrandir gave it to me. I wanted to wait until Rian was gone.”

Arien’s head snapped up, but Legolas pushed forward with his narrative.

“After our time together in Rivendell, I still had so many questions about you and your kin. There are no public records of your arrival on Middle Earth in Rivendell, but I found myself discussing it with Gandalf from time to time as we traveled with the Fellowship. He told me about some research he had been doing, and on our last night in Moria, he gave me this book and told me it held answers to questions he had been searching for. I believe he suspected his time on Middle Earth was ending, and the information in this book is critical to you and your mission. He told me he found it in the ruins of a city where Moriquendi lived just past the Blue Mountains.”

“Moriquendi? Dark Elves?”

“Tárisse, who wrote it, was one of the Moriquendi. The inscription in the book says she is the daughter of Eöl, did you not know he was a Dark Elf? He was the one who started the destruction of Gondolin.”

“I knew he was a Dark Elf,” Arien said, blushing. “There has simply been a lot of information presented to me in a short amount of time.”

“Of course, I was moving very fast through the information. It took me a while before I made that connection anyway.” There was not a hint of sarcasm in Legolas’s voice.

“Did Gandalf tell you what questions were answered in this book?”

Legolas locked eyes with Arien, and she felt her heart start to race.

“It tells the truth about Rian’s parentage.”

Arien was not sure how long she spent squinting at the book she held. The truth about Rian’s parentage? Was Rian not a child of the Valar? Eventually she opened the book and started reading. Legolas patted her arm and said something about going to find her some food before standing to leave.

The personal history started off as many do, telling the reader about Tárisse’s parents, Eöl and Aredhel. Eöl was a Dark Elf who enchanted Aredhel when he noticed her light and beauty, bringing her to his home in the woods of Nan Elmoth, where she eventually fell in love with him. They had a son, Maeglin, who would later betray Gondolin to Melkor. When Turgon, ruler of Gondolin, killed Eöl, he tried to kill Maeglin. Aredhel sacrificed herself for her son, getting hit by Turgon’s poison dart. She gave birth to Tárisse as she died, leaving Tárisse parentless.

Tárisse was an outcast among the Gondolin fugitives and found a more permanent home among the Moriquendi in the Blue Mountains. Her hatred for Turgon and Elves of the Light grew, and after a time, she vanished from their realm and began to search in the north for one who could help avenge her family.

And so Melkor found her, wandering among the mountains surrounding Angband. Tárisse wrote:

_It was a myth that Morgoth’s face had been marred by Thorondor, the great Eagle King. I now can confirm this is not a myth._

_I believe he will help me, because just as his scars show Morgoth is not physically invincible, his love for me demonstrates that even the Valar have emotional weakness._

After this entry the dates jumped forward several years, and Arien hardly noticed Legolas draping a blanket around her shoulders and insisting she eat some of the food he brought.

_Love has grown between Melkor and_ myself _through these past years of companionship. He is not the terrible figure the Elves believe he is, and I wish never to be parted from him. The Valar poisoned the minds of the Elves since they realized Melkor had more power than they, and now we have heard Eärendil has rallied them to action. The Valar plan to travel to Middle Earth and lock Melkor in the Void. But we have made a plan. I will have to be patient, but I know it will be worth it._

There was no explanation of their plan, but the next several pages were filled with mourning and longing. Melkor had been successfully sealed in the Void. Tárisse spoke of it as temporary, and Arien did not understand. Had Melkor been planning how to escape the Void all along?

But Arien’s question was answered in a way she never expected.

_My love has finally visited me. Melkor has located the first of many doors that link the Void and Middle Earth. He cannot stay for long, as his presence may be detected by Ulmo, who still roams many rivers and valleys, but I shall search for somewhere safe - somewhere away from the bodies of water where we may live out our lives till the Valar see the wrong they have done._

And Tárisse held true to her promise. She and Melkor would meet and spend a few days together, and then she would spend months, sometimes years traveling over Middle Earth in search of a place not only away from water, but near a door to the Void. She found it near the end of the second age, and Tárisse waited for Melkor to come.

Arien was shocked when she read the date of the last entry. It was only twenty-five years before the current day. Was Tárisse still alive?

_The Valar have found our hiding place - I am sure of it. I leave this account now in the ruins of my ancestors hoping I can return to it, but I have to protect my daughter. My love has returned to the Void until he feels confident in the next steps of our plan, but if I lose Almarë, I will never forgive myself._

Underneath this last paragraph was a hasty scrawl in different handwriting:

_Rian is Almarë_


	17. Rian

“Rian?” Taelen asked for the third time.

Rian finally looked away from the fire to see his face in the opening of their shelter.

“Huh?”

“It is your watch,” he said, “but if you need to rest, I can--”

“No, sorry,” she muttered as she climbed off her bedroll and grabbed her sword and quiver. “I can take over.”

The darkness of night wrapped around Rian like a thin blanket as she took her place in the lower branches of a tree on the edge of their campground. She hoped the silence would soothe her heart and allow a few hours of peace. 

Aside from the moments of annoyance toward Taelen and Hanna’s stolen looks and hidden hand-holding, Rian had felt numb to emotion. She frequently forgot to eat, or couldn’t eat when food was prepared. The number of days since leaving Lothlorien was vague, everything blended into a long rainy stretch of despair. She was grateful they were near their destination.

Rian caught her breath when the silence was disturbed as a low hum started floating through the air. The black shapes of trees and bushes darkened, and Rian could barely see the outline of her bow in her hands. Before she could climb down and alert Taelen and Hanna, a tall, dark figure appeared. The humming stopped, and night returned to normal shadowed terrain.

“Good evening, my child,” the figure spoke.

Rian squinted, and in the sparse starlight, she could make out the face of her father.

“Why are you here?” Rian whispered. “I did not expect to see you again.”

He walked toward where she was perched, motioning for her to climb down and join him. She hesitated a moment before jumping off the branch and onto the ground.

“After our last interaction, I could not stop wishing to see you once more. How has your journey been?”

“I-- it's been fine,” she lied.

“That is good. I had worried your love for Mithrandir would prevent you from focusing.”

Rian could not tell if the concern in his voice was for her, or for her mission to retrieve the Silmaril from the north.

“I do not let emotions prevent me from clear judgment,” she answered after a moment.

He nodded and said, “Of course not.”

The two of them were silent, and Rian could hear Taelen and Hanna talking just a few feet away.

“Would you like me to ask them to come out?” Rian asked.

“No,” he shook his head, “no, I can only speak with you. I am risking a lot to even visit you now.”

“Then why risk it?”

He ignored her question and reached a long, pale finger toward her and looped it under the black chain barely visible among her dark clothing. He pulled on it, bringing the red pendant out from under her shirt, and smiled.

“I am glad you are wearing this.”

“How did it make my powers stronger?” Rian asked, taking a deep breath as he dropped the necklace and pulled his hand away.

“It made your powers stronger? I suppose in a way, it could have helped, but I believe that has more to do with you than the necklace,” he answered. “Rian, I do not have much time, but I needed to give you some instructions.”

Rian nodded, glancing at the shelter where she could still hear Taelen and Hanna talking. Firelight flitted from the opening, and Rian wished its warmth could reach where she stood. The air had gone cold, and she was worried they would see snow before the night was up.

“It is important you tell no one I am asking this of you -- or that I have even been here.”

Rian felt a chill run down her spine and looked at her father with scrutiny.

“Why do you ask for secrecy? Can you not trust the others?”

He shook his head, “It is not a matter of trust. They are well-intentioned, but I do not believe they have had the experiences necessary to guide them to correct decisions in the end.”

Rian nodded. She would be lying to herself if she did not admit that she’d had the same concern. Growing up as a Ranger had given her a breadth of understanding she knew Arien and Taelen did not have due to their recluse lives in Rivendell and Lothlorien. They’d been waited on, taught, nurtured: they were soft. And Hanna had been alone, secluded in Mirkwood, and only now was learning truths about the real world.

“I understand,” Rian replied at last.

“Good,” he smiled. “Then know this: when you recover the other two Silmarils, you must keep them in your care. The others must not have them. Protect them until I come for them, and only then shall you surrender them. They must be kept safe at all costs.”

Rian did not answer immediately but nodded to show she had heard what he said.

“I am counting on you to not let the others use the Silmarils for their own devices.”

Own devices? The only indication of using the Silmarils she’d had was a conversation where Arien talked about the possibility of using them against Melkor.

“Once you have gathered all three then I shall meet with you again and we will talk about the last obstacle preventing you from returning home.”

The last obstacle… Rian had hoped once they defeated Melkor that they’d be able to return to Valinor. Now it was confirmed, and she would let nothing stop her from joining her family.

“I will do as you say,” she replied. It was not in her nature to trust blindly, but what he was asking made sense. Protecting the Silmarils until the Valar gave them more instructions would be wise -- they wouldn’t even know how to use them without help.

He smiled at her and reached out to touch her face. His hand was surprisingly cold, but Rian did not mind. She closed her eyes and allowed his touch to linger in her memory.

When she opened her eyes he was gone, but she felt renewed. She re-took her watch in the tree and began going over their plan for retrieving the Silmaril, thinking clearly for the first time since joining Hanna and Taelen. And as she planned and re-planned, images of Valinor as her father had described in Lothlorien gave her comfort and purpose. 

Morning came, and the snow Rian had expected was nowhere to be seen. All night she had shivered, huddling near the fire as she kept it ablaze even after the wood had all burned up. Talen and Hanna made no mention of hearing her conversation with her father, and she kept her promise and did not speak of it with them.

She rode most of the day in silence, as was usual, while Hanna and Taelen chatted. They would reach the Ice Bay before sundown, and though she was glad the first half of their journey from Lothlorien would be done, the instructions from her father ever ran through her mind. Would Taelen and Hanna be alright when she insisted the Silmaril stay in her care?

By mid-day, they had passed out of the last mountains in the north and could see dense fog miles ahead that marked where the temperature was coldest around the water. They had decided days before that Taelen would be the one to retrieve the Silmaril - he could hold his breath underwater longer than Rian or Hanna and was (as expected) a strong swimmer. He and Rian had poured over Arien’s detailed map of the bay to find where his best point of entry would be, and Rian had been satisfied with their plan. The only thing that worried her were the notes Arien had made in the corner - they didn’t make any sense.

Maedhros  
Dagor Dagorath

Taelen had reassured her he had seen Arien make random notes on plenty of her resources as they traveled from Rivendell, and that these must be something she wanted to research later. But it still did not sit well with Rian.

“We are close!” Taelen called out, riding out ahead of Rian. “I can feel the water clearly now!”

“Turn to the north,” Rian called back to him, speeding up so as to not lose him in the fog.

They sped along the coast, the smell of the cold sea exciting as the dirt they rode on turned to black sand.

After another hour of riding, they reached the point of entry they’d planned and dismounted, tying their horses to a lone dead tree about fifty yards from the water.

“Are you ready?” Hanna asked Taelen, pulling him into a hug.

“Of course! It is merely black, freezing water with floating chunks of ice. How hard can this be?”

Despite Taelen’s laughter, Rian could see his hands shaking. She hoped it would be over quickly.

Taelen approached the water, stripping his shirt and boots off and handing them to Hanna, who was blushing. She held another pair of his trousers and a blanket he could use to dry off with when he returned, and Rian dug a small hole in the sand for a fire.

“If you are not back in three minutes, I will come down after you,” she called to Taelen. He nodded and placed his hands in the water.

“It is down there!” He cried with enthusiasm as his teeth chattered. “Arien was right!” He glanced one more time at Hanna, and then with a nod to Rian, he said, “Three minutes,” and dove head-first into the water.

A moment later, the surface was motionless. The shining black abyss filled Rian with dread. Despite all their preparations, and her faith in Taelen’s abilities, what if something went wrong?

The minutes passed slowly. Rian used her finger to mark in the sand the seconds gone by, hoping with each one that their plan would work, but as she reached two minutes, she started taking off her layers of clothing.

“I cannot see anything in the water,” Hanna said, her voice trembling, “I know Taelen can see down there, but will you be able to?”

“I have to try,” Rian stated, taking her boots off and placing them next to her cloak and thick outer-tunic. She shivered in her shirt and leggings, not enjoying the feeling of the coarse black sand on her feet. “It's been three minutes.”

Rian dove into the water and the cold shocked her lungs so quickly she had to resurface immediately so she could take another breath of air. Hanna yelled something at her, but she could not hear it over the rush in her ears, and she dived below once more. As she struggled to move in the cold water, a warm feeling began to spread from a small spot in her chest. She glanced down and the red pendant was glowing. It allowed her lungs to relax, though her hands and feet still felt frozen.

The water was nearly too dark to see through, and the bottom seemed to go on for miles. She glanced around frantically, unable to see Taelen anywhere. Panic grew in her chest, which was burning from lack of air, and she knew she had to resurface soon, but just as she began to pull herself through the water to the surface, a light glinted to her left. She broke for air and shouted to Hanna,

“I think I found him!”

She dove for a third time, kicking hard as she tried to reach the light before it moved. As she got closer she could identify the shape of a large stone arch and several walls that had once been connected to it. Rian rounded the corner of one, and the sight before her made her freeze in the water.

Taelen was holding the Silmaril in one hand, but the other was grappling with a strange glowing figure.

Rian felt the burn of her lungs again and knew she did not have much time. She swam as fast as she could toward Taelen, whose face was deathly pale. The figure spotted Rian, and as it did, she could see it had the face and body of a man. He was nearly translucent in the water, emitting an eerie glow. His eyes looked alive, widening as Rian drew near, and his mouth formed words she did not understand.

Its surprise was all Taelen needed to break free of its grasp. He started swimming to the surface, much faster than Rian could have imagined, but the figure followed him, rushing past Rian without further acknowledgment.

Soon they were out of her sight, and she pulled her way through the water to the surface once more. She gasped for breath and cried out in shock as she saw Taelen lying motionless on the beach. Hanna was standing over him, one hand wrapped around the Silmaril and the other holding Rian’s sword. The spirit from the water was standing on the beach several yards away from Hanna, his hands outstretched.

“Give me the Silmaril,” he commanded. His voice was stronger than Rian expected of a spirit. “Give it to me, and I will not harm you.”

“Who are you?” Hanna asked, matching his vocal strength. Rian reached the shore at this moment, pulling herself out of the water as she crawled over to Taelen.

“In life, I was Maedhros, son of Fëanor. My brothers and I gave our lives to regain the Silmarils, and in death, I now protect it from those who would be as greedy as we were.”

Maedhros! Arien’s notes had not been mindless scribbles, but something she suspected. Rian regretted not going back for her as she touched Taelen’s motionless body. He was breathing, but just barely, and his skin was colder than Rian’s.

“I am Hanna, daughter of the Valar Yavanna and Aulë, and we have come to gather the Silmarils and prevent the return of Melkor. I command you to return to the Spirit Halls of Mandos and leave the Silmaril in our care.”

“Fools! Do you think you can best Morgoth? He can only be contained by the power of all the Valar. The Silmaril will not help you.” He took a step toward Hanna, and she moved her hand sharply. Several spikes of dark earth shot up from the beach, impaling Maedhros, but he kept moving, unaffected by them. “Your meager powers are nothing compared to the terror Morgoth can conjure. He would kill you, just as we shall!”

In a flurry of movement, Maedhros rose above the ground, beckoning to the sea with his arms. Several other spirits rose from the waters, rushing toward the beach. Large waves started crashing on the sand, the sound deafening. Rian stood shakily, trying to take her sword from Hanna as she shouted over the roar, “Protect Taelen!”

She turned from Hanna and thrust her free hand out in front of her, spraying large flames toward the spirits, who slowed their approach but did not stop moving toward her with glowing swords raised over their heads. 

“We shall not let you have this last Silmaril!” Maedhros yelled, flying at Rian with alarming speed.

She tried to lift her sword, but her arms could hardly move, and it slipped from her hands. Desperately, she fell to the ground, trying to pick it up as Maedhros’s blade missed her by an inch. As she struggled to wrap her frozen fingers around the hilt of her sword she noticed a light appearing in the center of her palms. An image of the gigantic wolf that attacked them at the feet of the Misty Mountains flashed in her mind's eye, and she grinned.

Maedhros approached her again, and stretched her arm out to place her palm on his chest. He screamed in pain and fell to his knees.

“How-- why?” One of the other spirits exclaimed. Rian wanted to ask that too: when she touched the wolf, it had dissipated into black smoke. She obviously was affecting this spirit, but not in the same way.

“She has the touch of Morgoth,” Maedhros coughed out. “Do not approach her.”

“Morgoth? You are mistaken-- my father is Mandos, I--”

“You are filled with lies,” Maedhros spat, standing and floating over to the other spirits. “You shall turn the Silmaril over to him-- you will destroy Middle Earth!”

“ I am telling the truth!” Rian screamed, but a moment later, a wave taller than the Mallorn trees of Lothlorien crashed into her and pulled her out into the frozen sea.

She gasped for breath when she surfaced twenty yards from the shore. Her sword was lost to the deep water, and she could barely move to stay afloat. Hopelessly, Rian looked to where Hanna knelt by Taelen, but he was still unconscious. She bobbed up and down as the water moved with the waves. Another large one headed toward her, and she grabbed onto a large chunk of ice, holding her breath as the wave pushed her under. The ice pulled her back up, and she coughed as she resurfaced.

“You will drown out here,” Maedhros laughed coldly as he floated through the air toward her. “These waters are unkind, and shall not grant you the mercy of escaping their dark depths.”

Rian did not doubt him. Hanna could not swim out to save her, and Taelen was not waking up. Despair filled her mind, and she thought of Gandalf. He had fallen down an endless mine shaft to save his companions from a Balrog of Morgoth. Now she too would fall for her companions, into the bottomless waters. She would finally return home.

“You will have to pull the Silmaril from my lifeless body,” she cried, letting go of the ice and letting herself fall into the water. She knew Hanna still had the Silmaril, but she hoped to buy her and Taelen time to leave.

The crushing cold squeezed the air out of Rian as she let herself fall. The spirits of Maedhros and the others surrounded her, but she could not feel their hands on her frozen body. The last thing she saw was a brilliant flash of light, and she hoped Gandalf was on the other side.


	18. Taelen

Taelen coughed as water trickled out of his mouth. His lungs burned, but his body felt frozen. With a rush, everything came back to him - the cold of the water, the strange spirit that appeared, and Rian suddenly appearing in the darkness with a glowing red light coming out of her chest. Taelen opened his eyes with a start, coughing again as he tried to take a deep breath.

“You’re alive!” Hanna cried, trying to help Taelen sit up. He had a blanket around his shoulders, and his wet shirt was lying on the sand next to him. “Oh, I was so worried. Rian was drowning, but then Arien appeared and--”

“Arien? Arien is here?” Taelen’s voice was strained, and he began to shiver violently.

Just past Hanna he could see the water slapping against the shore. A few yards from where the shallow water started he could see Arien’s head bobbing up and down among the waves. She was moving slowly towards them as she dragged an unconscious Rian along with her.

“We-- we have to help,” he stammered, trying to push himself off the sand, but Hanna pushed him down gently before she ran out into the water. It was all Taelen could do to not fall asleep as he curled up on the sand, his teeth chattering, as Hanna waded through the water, pushing aside chunks of ice, to take Rian out of Arien’s grasp. Arien stumbled onto the beach and grabbed a tinder box out of her bag. Hanna staggered out of the water a moment later and dropped Rian in the sand next to Taelen. 

“P-p-p-pull off her cl-clothes,” Arien instructed as she fumbled with the flint and steel. She couldn’t get a spark to fly onto the kindling, and she swore as she started to tremble.

“I will get the fire going,” Hanna said, taking the pieces out of Arien’s hands. “You can help Rian.”

Arien nodded and scooted herself over to Rian’s unconscious form. Rian groaned, coughing up water like Taelen had when he’d come to. Taelen saw Arien fumble with the buttons on Rian’s shirt. He inched closer, holding out an unsteady hand over Rian’s body. He did the same thing he’d been doing the whole rainy trip and pulled the water out of her clothing, tossing it with a tired wave into the sea. He didn’t have the strength to do the same to his clothing.

“Thank y-y-you,” Arien said, turning Rian on her side. Rian’s body jerked as she coughed up more water, but Taelen could feel relief fall over the group as they saw her take a deep breath.

Hanna had a fire started now, and she pulled out dry clothes for herself, Taelen, and Arien. Taelen struggled to change his pants, but eventually the three of them were dressed, and though Rian had not opened her eyes, she had stopped coughing up water. They were all safe-- and they were not going to freeze.

“What happened?” Taelen asked, breaking the silence as he watched Rian’s chest moving up and down.

“Rian was pulled in by a giant wave while she defended the Silmaril and us from a small group of strange spirits who claimed they were bound to the jewel,” Hanna said flatly, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. He could see her teeth chattering, though he knew it was not because of the cold as she was wearing more layers than he knew she had. “They pulled her under the water, and I-I cannot swim, so I thought she was going to die--”

Hanna stopped, trying to take a deep breath as she looked at Rian, and Arien cut in.

“That was when I arrived. I saw a flash in the water as I dove in, so I knew where to find Rian.” 

“How did you find us?” Hanna asked Arien. Taelen laid his head in Hanna’s lap as he watched Arien procure a small violet bottle. She attempted to open it several times with shaking hands before she finally got the lid off, but when she did, she took only a small sip before passing it to Hanna.

“This is Miruvor, Lady Galadriel gave it to me when I left. It should help fend off the c-c-cold. And I found you because you went to the place I told you the Silmaril would be?”

Hanna drank and then helped Taelen place it to his lips, and as it traveled down his throat he felt a warmth spread through his chest. He passed the bottle back to Arien, who put a few drops on her fingers and spread it across Rain’s forehead. He felt guilty he was not the one healing Rian, but he was unsure he had the energy to do so. 

The three of them, plus the still unconscious Rian, sat quietly around the crackling fire as the dim sunlight faded and the clouds blocked out all starlight. Taelen kept checking to make sure Rian was breathing, and after eating their evening meal he felt up to checking her body for any ailments he could heal. 

He sat down in the sand by Rian’s head as Hanna and Arien discussed their journey north.

“We were lost after two days,” Hanna chuckled. “How did you make it here without getting lost?”

Arien laughed, “Rian is not the only one who learned how to read a map. You got lost after two days?”

Taelen was glad to hear the two of them joking together, even if it was a distraction from thinking about the events of the day. It was hard to shake the feeling that they were being watched, or that something terrible was about to happen, but he tried to tell himself it was just the shock of nearly freezing to death. He took a deep breath, separating his fear from the forefront of his mind, he placed his hands on Rian’s shoulders. Her breathing immediately eased, and Taelen smiled as her fingers twitched and felt his healing power surge before he heard Arien say,

“I am so glad Rian found you.”

He looked up to see Hanna biting her lip, and Taelen took one hand off of Rian and reached out to Hannah. She had practiced what she was going to say to Arien many times. It usually began with “when I was alone in Mirkwood” and ended with, “and that is why rabbits and hedgehogs do not have successful friendships.”

“We should not have left you,” Hanna began, and Taelen took his other hand off of Rian in shock. “I am so sorry,” Hanna finished.

“Oh,” Arien looked up at Hanna with tears welling up in her eyes, “There are many things I could have done--”

“Better. We know,” Rian said suddenly. Her eyes fluttered open and she coughed out one last mouthful of water.

“Rian!” Arien cried as she nearly fell into the fire as she rushed to hug Rian. Taelen was surprised by her physical energy-- he still felt exhausted.

“Arien?” Rian asked with a scratchy voice. “Why are you here?”

“She pulled you out of the water-- she saved you,” Hanna said as she searched through Arien’s pack. A moment later she opened the purple vial of Miruvor and passed it to Arien, who helped Rian take a drink.

“Thank-- thank you.” Rian shivered, despite the blankets piled on top of her. “How did you fend off the spirits?” she asked Arien.

“Spirits?” Arien looked from Rian to Taelen and Hanna.

“A spirit was guarding the Silmaril,” Taelen answered, “he attacked me when I attempted to take it from the water.”

“And he summoned several others after I refused to hand the Silmaril over to him,” Hanna added with a shudder.

“You retrieved the Silmaril! And Maedhros was protecting it!” Arien’s eyes lit up, and she looked like she was going to clap her hands together. “I--”

“Knew it, yes,” Rian interrupted with another cough, “But if you did not get rid of them, who did?”

Arien shook her head. “I assumed it was you. I saw a flash of light from the water when I rode up, that is how I knew where to dive in to find you when Hanna told me you were drowning.”

Rian looked at her palms and shook her head, but did not say anything more. Taelen wanted to ask her what she was thinking but stopped himself. He knew Rian would share if she thought it was important.

“Where is the Silmaril, Hanna? Can we see it?” he asked instead.

Hanna nodded and reached for her pack. She carefully removed a small blue velvet pouch and handed it to Taelen.

“Is that mine?” Arien asked.

Hanna’s face flushed, “Er, yes. I took it from your stuff before we left Lothlorien. I knew you had one for each Silmaril.”

Arien simply nodded, and Taelen went ahead and opened the pouch to pull out the jewel. It was just as brilliant as the one he’d pulled out of the Nimrodel, and his heart soared knowing they had achieved their goal this time. Each side of the Silmaril had been cut with extreme skill, and a nearly blinding white light shone from its center.

“That is one,” Rian said, propping herself up on one elbow with some effort. “Now, to retrieve the other two.”

“Arien,” Hanna spoke softly, scooting closer to Taelen, “Rian told us you think you have a Silmaril inside you. Is that true?”

Arien nodded, “I am nearly convinced. I have read the story of Eärendil over and over, and the last known account of the third Silmaril was when he returned it to Manwë. Manwë and Varda supposedly hung the Silmaril in the sky as a star for all to see, but the ancient astrological charts I found show the star we claim to be Eärendil’s existed before that time.”

Taelen sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. “That star is sacred to many Elves. Why would the Valar have them believe it is the Silmaril when it is not?”

“I am not sure, but something may have been lost in translation through the years.”

Hanna scooted closer to Taelen, handing him his shoes, which he was thrilled to find were warm from sitting by the fire, and said, “The longer we spend trying to interpret the Valar’s purposes and plans, the more time we waste. No one on Middle Earth has had contact with them since the last time Melkor was defeated.”

“Well, Rian--” Taelen started.

“I had a dream about my father.” Rian interrupted. “I thought I spoke with him while in Lothlorien, but it was nothing but a dream.”

“Do you think he sent you the dream?” Arien asked. Her face was concerned, and Taelen could see her aura turning a deep red. She was afraid, but of what?

Rian shrugged, “I am unsure. In my dream we simply spoke of Valinor and its beauty. I am anxious to see, myself.”

Arien’s fearful aura did not change but grew stronger as she began to rifle through her bag. She pulled out a small black book, and Taelen had an uneasy feeling about it. Arien’s fingers were trembling, and it wasn’t from the cold. She opened her mouth to say something, but Hanna spoke first.

“Rian, what did Maedhros’s spirit mean when he said you had the same touch as Morgoth? Who is Morgoth?”

“That is the name Fëanor gave Melkor after he slew Fëanor’s brother and robbed Fëanor’s house of the Silmarils,” Arien said, her face pale, “The majority of Elves know him by that name, but Lord Elrond taught me to use his ancient name. Did Maedhros really say you had the touch of Melkor?” 

“It means nothing,” Rian grumbled, “there is no way Melkor is my father. I would sooner die than discover that ulunn’s blood runs through my veins.”

Taelen nodded, but stopped as he watched Arien slowly put the book she had pulled out away.

“Ulunn?” Arien’s voice cracked. “Is that not a little harsh?”

Taelen’s jaw dropped, and Hanna looked aghast.

“Surely, this is not Arien sitting before me,” Taelen said, trying to comprehend what had happened. “What have you done to the real Arien?”

“Arien,” Rian looked like she was going to laugh genuinely for the first time Taelen could remember, “you have told me numerous times how Melkor is the source of all evil-- and it takes you hours to get through the list of his evil deeds. I would say ulunn is a generous term to use.”

“Hear, hear.” Hanna raised the bottle of Miruvor in toast and took another swig. She hastily put the lid back on the bottle when Arien glared at her. Taelen was sympathetic with Arien-- Miruvor was not given out in large quantities, and yet, he too wanted to take another sip of the sweet, warm elixir.

“I just think we could take a step back and, uh, know that any one of us would be lucky to have the blood of the most powerful Valar running--”

“Melkor is the most powerful Valar?” Hanna’s face turned even paler than Arien’s.

“Yes,” Arien took a deep breath, “but that does not mean we cannot rise against him and--”

“We will be fine.” Rian cut her off. “I am sure the Valar themselves will help us as much as they can.”

Taelen looked at Rian in surprise, though he was almost more surprised at the look Arien was giving her. It was too close to how Hanna looked at him when he identified several different types of trees surrounding their campsite one night.

The conversation carried on a while longer before they decided to make camp and set up a watch in case Maedhros decided to resurface (though Taelen was still not clear on how Rian got rid of him in the first place). Taelen knew they would not have many other concerns. The north was barren of all wildlife, and the nearest settlement was a two days ride away.

Hanna took the watch and insisted the others sleep as long as they could in preparation for their departure early in the morning. It had typically been Rian who took the watch, but she happily conceded to Hanna with no debate. 

Taelen had settled down onto his bedroll and was drifting asleep when he noticed Arien pouring over the black book she had pulled out earlier.

“Did you get that in Caras Galadhon?” he asked.

She jumped and closed it, faking a smile as she said, “I did not realize you were still awake.”

“And I did not realize you were hiding something from us.” He sat up with some effort, checking to see if Rian was asleep. Her eyes were shut, and she was breathing deeply.

“Please-- no, I am not hiding--”

“It’s alright,” Taelen shook his head, “I do not blame you.”

“What?”

“We left you behind-- albeit foolishly. It is natural for you to be wary of trusting us.”

Arien nodded thoughtfully, pulling her knees to her chest as she looked into the fire. Its faint light reflected in her eyes, and Taelen could see her aura begin to darken.

“I trust you more than you probably think,” she answered. “I am simply researching something important to our mission-- and I am wary of telling anyone before I have an explanation as to what has come to light.”

“Your Silmaril.” Taelen asked.

Arien relaxed, smiling softly. “I am not sure how we are supposed to retrieve it.”

“Maybe we are not supposed to-- maybe you are meant to have it so you can seal Melkor away.”

“Perhaps…” she frowned, “but I am still unsure if we are supposed to seal him away in the Void again. If he can escape it now, what would stop him from doing so later?”

Taelen did not have a good answer, but tried to comfort Arien and ease them both to sleep, and for the first time on their journey, he dreamed. Dark shadows, not unlike the spirit of Maedhros, lurked in the corners of his mind. He tossed and turned, waking near dawn in a cold sweat. He was anxious to leave the dark sea.

A hazy sky greeted them in the morning, and Taelen had a hard time making out the mountains they were riding toward. Rian took the lead, and Arien was close behind her.

“Hanna, can we talk about what happened yesterday?” He asked as soon as Rian and Arien were out of earshot.

“If you are wanting an explanation as to my apology, I simply realized it was not worth trying to explain myself, and I was happy to see Arien again and wanted her to feel comfortable.”

Taelen stammered, and Hanna followed up by saying,

“You are not the only one who can read emotions, Taelen. You did not hide your surprise very well yesterday.”

Taelen stuck his nose in the air. “I do not believe in hiding emotions or reactions. It would be unfair to everyone else if I did, seeing as no one can hide their emotions from me.”

The two of them continued to banter back and forth, and Taelen came close to forgetting the barren landscape they were surrounded by and the frightening events from the day before. Gradually they drew closer to the mountains, their white peaks showing through the haze. Rian ushered them forward, bringing them to the foothills where they broke off from their path to take a shortcut Rian said would bring them back to Lothlorien at least a day faster.

Taelen trusted Rian, but as they moved further into the mountains, the haze turned to dense fog, and out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw shadows gathering around them, always just out of sight. Tall walls of dark rock surrounded them on both sides, and in the fog, they seemed to close in as they moved further into the mountains.

“I think we should hurry,” he whispered, turning to Hanna, but Hanna was gone. 

He could see nothing through the mist. He blindly led his horse a little further down the path, calling out to his companions in the hope they could hear him, but he was met with haunted silence. His heart was beating wildly, and he started to feel light-headed. 

It’s going to be okay, he thought, I just have to keep riding till I run into the others. Arien can make the fog go away. 

But his heart stopped because why hadn’t Arien already made the fog go away?

He turned once more, praying that he would see Hanna riding toward him, but there was nothing. Nothing but a looming shadow that was gradually moving closer. He began to panic, but then he heard Arien scream.


	19. Arien

Arien came to with a start, opening her eyes to complete darkness. The last thing she could remember was the thick fog surrounding her, and a dark shape whispering her name, but it had been hours from sundown. There should be light still.

 

The air in the room was still, the only sound her own shallow breathing. She tried to sit up but realized she could not move. Her limbs were locked in place, and though she could not see where she lay, she knew it could not be the mountain road they’d been traveling on. Icy stone pressed against her back, mocking her as she tried unsuccessfully to pull away from its cold embrace and break whatever spell held her captive. 

 

 _Right, complete darkness, an immobilizing spell,_ the possibilities of what could be happening blew through Arien’s mind in a flurry. _What I really need is light._

 

She concentrated, cursing the spell that locked her hands in place, and after a moment she successfully summoned a small ball of light that hovered over where she lay. 

 

She was in what appeared to be a strangely familiar, small room. The walls and ceiling were carved out of the same black rock that lined the mountain path-- so she hoped that meant she was close to where she lost the others. She wondered if they were searching for her, or if they too were laying on a stone slab in the middle of the mountain.

 

The stone she laid on was long, and a plethora of shiny coins and jewels and figurines were strewn around her. Her dirty travel clothes were gone and she now wore a thin, white dress. Ornate rings decorated her fingers, and silver chains were woven like snakes about her wrists. But most alarming was the jagged dagger that was laid across her chest. She had seen drawings of similar blades, and they were never used with good intent.

 

Stories of ancient Barrow-wights had haunted her dreams for a time when she was young. Elladan took great pleasure in scaring her with tales of one fearsome creature or another, but none had stuck more than the Barrow-wights who could put you under their spell, drag you into their barrows, and kill you as a sacrifice to the darkness of Melkor. No one knew what they were, other than they had first been summoned by Melkor in the mountains of Angmar-- and Arien knew those were not far away.

 

Fear stole over Arien as a cold murmur rose from the ground. The sound wrapped itself around where she laid, binding her even tighter to the sacrificial table. She knew in her heart that struggle was futile, that only a spoken spell could break this enchantment, but she could not move her mouth to speak. Still, she tried, reciting the memorized phrase over and over in her mind as the murmur grew. A second, higher strain joined it from somewhere above, intertwining with the cadence of the low rumble. Arien could not make out any words but realized she knew what came next, for the reason this room was familiar was the image that had played in her head many times over the past few months. This was the room where she had seen herself floating in her vision after the first attack from Thuringwethil.

 

But her thoughts about this revelation were cut short as an eerie green light appeared around the corner, its sickly color painting the walls as the murmur mounted in strength. Arien could do nothing but watch as a dark figure shrouded in robes entered the room. All she could see of their face were two shining eyes that looked through her with an unblinking stare that she knew was the last thing many victims had seen before they met death. 

 

The temperature of the room dropped as it slinked noiselessly over the smooth floor. The light Arien had created disappeared, and all that was left was the faint glow from the figure’s lifeless eyes. It came to a stop at the edge of the table, and Arien wanted to scream as a skeletal hand with nearly transparent skin reached toward her. She watched in horror as the hand wrapped around the hilt that lay in her own hands, and in one swift movement, cut her chest. 

 

Pain numbed Arien’s mind. The blade had gone deep, and the cut was long-- longer than the length of her hand. Blood stained the white dress she wore, dripping quietly onto the stone table as the murmur in the air grew louder, turning into chanted words spoken in a foul voice.

 

“ _Boroft be doram agh zemar agh asht, agh boroft be jat lajak.”_

 

The room darkened as far away whispers echoed the chant. Arien could not decipher their meaning, but it made her feel faint, and she grasped desperately at consciousness, 

From somewhere nearby, she heard a shout, and the unearthly scream of a Barrow-wight followed by several small crashes. Had someone found her?

 

Blood continued to flow from her chest as a small light appeared around the edges of her wound, drawing her attention. Arien watched and silently begged the Silmaril to stay hidden as another shrouded figure entered the room, and wispy, black wings unfolded from their back, filling most of the room: it was Thuringwethil. 

 

“Now,” Thuringwethil hissed, reaching a white hand toward Arien, her sharp talons glinting in the dim light.

 

The lock on Arien’s voice suddenly lifted, and she cried out as pain ripped through her chest as if on Thuringwethil’s command. Slowly, Arien began to rise in the air as the chanted words crescendoed. Her arms hung limp as she struggled to speak the words that would free her from the power of the Barrow-wight through her mounting pain. Tears fell freely down her face as a light began to shine from the cut, as had happened after the battle with Thuringwethil. The pain did not subside completely but was dulled as she watched the tendrils of light begin to heal her in earnest. 

 

Light poured into the room, and the skeletal Barrow-wight screeched, disappearing from the room, but Thuringwethil stayed, watching Arien with hunger. 

 

“Arien!” 

 

Rian’s voice seemed far away as Arien’s vision began to darken, but a brilliant red light reached toward Arien from around the corner, and Rian followed a moment later, her sword in one hand and the other wrapped around whatever was producing the red light. 

 

"Do you think you can save her?” Thuringwethil asked, not taking her eyes off Arien. 

 

Before Rian could move further into the room, the light in Arien’s chest pulsed once before rising out of Arien’s chest. Rian swung her sword at Thuringwethil, pinning her to the ground with a hot blast of fire. But Arien could not watch for more than a second as pain erupted in her body. She screamed in agony, feeling as though her life-force had been drained. Why was the Silmaril tied to her in this way?

 

She forced her eyes open enough to see Rian move toward her and reach up to grab her limp hand. Arien gasped, falling onto the stone table with a crack as the spell that bound her lifted. She could not bring herself to sit up, her body drained of vitality, and another wave of panic set in as she wondered how she and Rian would get out of here. 

 

“Thuringwethil,” she whispered to Rian, her voice raspy.

 

Rian spun around to face the demon, who had moved nearer to the stone altar. Thuringwethil reached a hand out toward the light, and Arien briefly saw the stump at the end of her other arm-- where Rian had cut off her hand. 

 

“Take it,” a low voice whispered, and Arien knew Rian heard it too because the latter paused, looking around. Arien could not see where it came from, though it sounded like whoever spoke was right by her ear. “Save it.”

 

Arien knew the voice was talking about the Silmaril, and she summoned all of her energy to sit up and beckon to the light with her shaking hands. It floated toward her, vibrating with power, but just before it touched her hands, excruciating pain exploded across her back. She choked, unable to breathe as Thuringwethil screamed in her ear and fell onto the table beside her, cradling her smoking hand against her chest. Arien collapsed next to the demon, blood pooling around her body.

 

She lost track of what happened next, her vision blurring and focusing at random. Dizziness overcame her as she tried to push herself away from Thuringwethil and slipped in her own blood as sloppy curses fell from her mouth.

 

Arien could not remember what happened after that, but somehow Rian dragged her out of the mountain and back into daylight. Taelen and Hanna found them shortly after, the fog having dissipated to reveal their location. Arien did not speak as Taelen tried to heal her and barely heard Rian explain how she had followed the Barrow-wights after they’d taken Arien’s unconscious form into their dark paths. All Arien could hear was the echo of her own screams in the dark chamber, and the weight of losing a second Silmaril to Thuringwethil was enough to send her drifting into welcome unconsciousness as her body gave out. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


_“I am glad you are going,” Legolas said, handing Arien her bag of books, “but I, of course, am sad to say goodbye.”_

 

_Arien hung her head a moment. She’d known this would come and had years of practice saying the same thing to Elrohir more times than she could count, but somehow this was harder._

 

_“I want you to know I am flattered by your expression of affection,” she blurted out, “but I regret to inform you that I am not able to return your sentiment. I have a duty to fulfill on Middle Earth, and then will be returning to my home in Valinor and--”_

 

_“Arien, can I not express that I will miss your company?”_

 

_Arien paused, trying to clear her throat as emotion rose to the surface. “I supposed that is alright.”_

 

_“Will you not miss me as well?”_

 

_“Of course I will,” she admitted without hesitation. “No one can scour a library as well as you when I ask about a topic from the second age.”_

 

_“Oh, yes, my one true purpose.” Legolas laughed, and Arien could not help but smile. She would miss him for many additional reasons, but none that she wanted to admit out loud._

 

“Arien?”

 

Arien stirred, clinging to the last moments of her last memory of Legolas. She shifted in the soft bed with a sigh as she pondered whether or not to ignore Rian out of annoyance that she did not know what she would dream of Legolas again. 

 

_Soft bed? Rian?_

 

She opened her eyes with a gasp and sat up with difficulty. Not only was she wrapped in an unusual amount of blankets that weighed her down, but she was sore all over, like the morning after a strenuous sparring match. A slew of thoughts hit her all at once, and she tried several times to speak through the panic.

 

“Arien, you are alright, take a deep breath.”

 

Rian was sitting in a chair next to her bed, and Arien realized she was in the tâlan she’d stayed in before their journey north. 

 

“How..” she started to ask before reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table.

 

“Taelen said you would need lots of water when you woke up,” Rian said, “and I fetched you out of the mountain. We brought you here as fast as we could.”

 

Arien blinked several times. “You-- you saved me?” The memory of Rian in the Barrow-wight’s chamber was blurred.

 

“Why does that surprise you?” Rian crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. 

 

“Sorry,” she took a deep breath, “I am surprised to be alive. How did you get me out of the mountain? How did you make it past Thuringwethil?”

 

Rian fidgeted in her chair, unfolding and folding her arms a few times. “Thuringwethil did not try to stop me.”

 

“What?” The word slipped out, little more than a whisper. 

 

“I got there just before she attacked you-- and I could not get to her before she had --but after her initial attack she just looked at me and left.”

 

Arien winced-- both in pain and at the memory of Thuringwethil’s triumph. “She took another Silmaril.”

 

Rian shook her head, “No, I did.”

 

“Oh, Rian, you are amazing!” Arien nearly fell out of her bed. She let out a joyous laugh, reaching for Rian’s hands with excitement.

 

 “I cannot believe you saved it! I feared--”

 

“Why did she let me take it?”

 

Rian had leaned all the way forward in her chair, and she was looking at Arien so intensely Arien wondered if the curtains behind her would catch fire. But Arien did not want to answer as she suddenly realized what had happened. But Rian wouldn’t betray them, would she? After the night she pulled Rian out of the water, and Rian was so adamant that she was not Melkor’s kin, Arien had tried to put all thought of showing Rian Tárisse’s book aside, and hoped the reveal could wait a week or two, hoped that Rian was true to the character she’d shown. 

 

“Are you sure she knew you had it?” she asked.

 

Rian nodded and pulled on a thin black chain around her neck. At the end of it was a red jewel pendant, and shining in the middle of the jewel were two bright lights, swirling around each other in one, fluid motion.

 

“The Silmaril’s light flew into this. I think it was the only vessel in the room, and there was no way Thuringwethil would have missed it.”

 

Arien gazed at the light in the necklace-- why were there two? She looked down at her chest, and peaking over the neckline of her nightgown was an angry red scar in the place where the Barrow-wight had cut open her chest.

 

“Taelen fixed you up as best he could,” Rian said quickly, “but he said something about the cut being cursed or enchanted, not unlike the wounds from Thuringwethil.”

 

Arien untied the top of the gown, allowing her to see further down. Reaching down toward her stomach, were five gashes, nearly healed, but just as red as the scar from the Barrow-wight. She swallowed hard, quickly tying the gown once more. Thuringwethil’s talons had gone through her back to pierce her front. Taelen must have done some incredible healing. She should have died.

 

“Does Taelen still have a scar on his arm?” she asked quietly.

 

Rian nodded. “He said it has faded over time. But he managed to get all of the poison out when we reached Lothlorien. That is why we had to get you here so quickly.”

 

“I was poisoned?”

 

“Yes. From your wounds, as well as something else he could not identify. How… how are you feeling?”

 

It worried Arien to think Taelen had reached a limit in healing, but she was grateful for what he’d done, and it felt nice to have Rian care.

 

“I feel alright,” she lied. “I will think of your bravery in saving me every time I get dressed now,” 

 

Rian blushed, though Arien was not sure why-- Rian never took compliments seriously.

 

Just then, there was a sharp knock on the door and Rian rushed to answer it. She opened the door to reveal Legolas, who smiled when he saw Arien sitting up.

 

“I am so glad you are awake,” he said. Arien returned his smile, her heart racing. She did not think she would ever see him again after they said farewell when she left Lothlorien in pursuit of her companions. 

 

“Please come in,” she said, trying to keep her voice level.

 

He walked past Rian, whose eyes had narrowed the moment she saw him. “Have you not spent enough time here over the past two days?” she asked, her voice more brusk than usual.

 

“You watched me while I was sleeping?” Arien said awkwardly.

 

Legolas had the decency to look embarrassed, and he came to stand at the foot of Arien’s bed. “Most of my time was spent reading. It was quiet here, and even asleep, you managed to be good company.”

 

“That is not…” Rian rolled her eyes, her voice trailing off with a sigh. “I am going to go tell Taelen and Hanna you are awake.”

 

She left without another word, and Arien let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. 

“How are you feeling?” Legolas asked, sitting on the edge of Arien’s bed and drawing her out of her thoughts.

 

Arien made a face. “If I am being honest, my chest hurts like hell, but do not tell Rian I admitted that. I told her I am alright.”

 

Legolas laughed, grinning as he looked at Arien. “I am just glad you made it out of there alive, but it is wonderful to know you are in good spirits.”

 

“Do not underestimate my acting abilities.” Arien shook her head, leaning back against the headboard. “I am distraught. I do not know what we can do from here. .”

 

Legolas nodded understandingly, reaching out to take Arien’s hand. She thought about pulling away as he touched her, but could not bring herself to do so. It felt nice that he cared about her, though her guilt did not make that easy.

 

“You should not be so kind to me, I do not deserve it,” she said.

 

“I do not know what you mean.”

 

“When we last spoke,” she explained painfully, “I told you I cannot give you more than friendship. I must fulfill my duty on Middle Earth and nothing more.”

 

“Ah, yes, you did.” Legolas pulled his hand away. “Forgive me, I shall be more restrained. I do not want to make you uncomfortable.”

 

Arien wanted to take his hand back, an urge that surprised her, and yet didn’t. She had thought of him often since leaving Lothlorien, and while she could not manage to say it out loud, it was all she could do to stop herself from jumping out of bed and running to hug him when Rian had opened the door.

 

“I am surprised Taelen and Hanna have not come running in yet,” Legolas said. “They have been waiting nearly as anxiously as I have for you to wake up. Perhaps Rian got distracted.”

 

But the door swung open before Arien could reply, and Taelen and Hanna rushed inside, looking like they had just seen a ghost.

 

“Arien, there is someone with Rian--” Hanna said.

 

“He is not an Elf.” Taelen finished.

 

“What?” Arien pulled her covers off, stepping out of bed and immediately looking around for clothes or shoes as she tried to gain her balance by holding onto the edge of the bedside table. Legolas handed her a pair of boots that she started putting on, ignoring her lack of socks.

 

“She is just past the border of the city, we were there with Rumil, and she left, saying she would be back in a bit,” Taelen looked like he was going to be sick, “but we followed her and saw him appear. She said a while ago her father visited her, but Arien, I read that book in your bag--”

 

Arien nearly dropped the tunic she was holding but did not interrupt Taelen.

 

“I think Rian is going to be in trouble.”

 

“Where is the Silmaril you retrieved, Taelen?” Arien asked, pulling her tunic over her nightgown.

 

“I have it,” Hanna said. “A few days ago, Rian said she should carry it, but after Taelen told me about the book, I took it back and replaced it with a regular stone.”

 

Arien nodded, trying to take this information in stride as she wrapped her belt that held her sword sheaths around her hips. 

 

“Legolas,” she said, glancing at him. His face was pale, but he was listening intently, “take Hanna and Taelen to where we found the hollow trees just past the city’s border. Then go to your companions and have them help protect the inner city if they are willing. Melkor should not care much about anything but the Silmarils, but I would rather not take the chance.”

 

She turned to Hanna and Taelen after that, wincing as her ribs protested against all of her sudden movement. 

 

“I need to help Rian, you need to protect the last Silmaril.”

  
  



End file.
